


A Different Path

by Ashes1097



Category: Mahabharata - Vyasa, महाभारत | Mahabharat (TV 2013), महाभारत | Mahabharat (TV 2013) RPF
Genre: Betrayal, Depression, Friendship, Gen, Guilt, Regret
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:21:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 45,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23981488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashes1097/pseuds/Ashes1097
Summary: A year ago, Karna had done the unthinkable when he had come to Abhimanyu's aid, refusing to take part in the slaughter of the brave teenager.  In that moment, history had changed forever.  Now, as the threat of another war looms over Hastinapur, Karna must return to the brothers who hate him, to the mother who rejected him and to the friend he betrayed.  A story of redemption, forgiveness, sacrifice and new beginnings.
Relationships: Karna - Relationship
Comments: 89
Kudos: 231





	1. Karna

**Author's Note:**

> Mahabharata never ceases to amaze me. This story is a product of moments I spent wondering whether the events in the epic could have unfolded in a different manner. While the Star Plus version had its faults, that scene where Karna is unable to aim his arrow at Abhimanyu after imagining Kunti is what inspired me to write this. This is the first chapter and others will follow. Please be kind enough to leave comments since this is my first foray into this genre and I am not sure if i am doing a good job. If you have stuck till here then I am sure you can put in a few seconds for constructive criticism.

Karna stared at the clouds creeping in from the right, amorphous and heavy, cutting off the sunlight and engulfing the world in darkness. The air sizzled with electricity and the sky looked ready to crack, roar and unleash its wrath upon them. A frightful thunderstorm was on its way. The trees swayed left and right; the wind picking up speed even as hapless servants hurried around him, trying to close the gigantic doors and windows before the gale disrupted even a single hair of the courtiers standing around him. He stepped away from the window and glanced at the magnificent courtroom, absolutely resplendent with the golden throne occupying the position of honor on the elevated dais. His gaze fell upon the high-vaulted ceiling with wooden beams from wherein hung a majestic glass chandelier right in the center. The courtroom was certainly breathtaking though he wondered whether the man who occupied the treasured throne cared much for it. He doubted his friend who had borne acute hardship early on in his life would be much affected by such ostentatious display of wealth and affluence meant to intimidate every visitor. 

Breathing out a weary sigh, he closed his eyes, knowing that the gaze of everyone in the chamber was upon him. The lack of subtlety was surprising considering this was a courtroom and not the battlefield. Here power was demonstrated not through superiority in combat and warfare, but through careful and meticulous mind games that he found more tiring than shooting arrows in the same position all night. Swords were substituted by slander, maces with malice and daggers exchanged for deceit. The clash of ethics and ambition was commonplace, and it was often fun to see which one finally won in the end. He remembered his own stint as the ruler of Anga, watching the noblemen in bemusement as they fought to be in the king's good graces. It was a relief when they realized that he would not be persuaded by spurious fawning, but only by the strength of their character.

He turned to the chief advisor to the King, an old beefy man with a mane of silvery hair that ran to the middle of his chest. Bhadran was dressed in fine yellow silk and seemed eager to please him despite the fact that he was no longer a king. Heck, he was actively despised throughout the entire Bharatvarsh, mocked and ridiculed for trying to break through the chains of centuries old caste system that had weighed down on his shoulders for as long as he remembered. 

"Will it take him long?"

He had meant it to sound cool and nonchalant, but the words came out in a muffled garble, washed with emotion he hadn't learnt how to hide.

The Chief Advisor sighed and adjusted his turban, sneaking a glance at the dark gloomy weather outside. "His Majesty went hunting with his bodyguards deep into the hinterlands which is why it took so long to reach him. He should arrive in a few minutes."

Karna interlocked his fingers firmly, trying to ignore the pounding in his heart or the fact that no matter what he did, his hands wouldn't stop shaking. A feeling of weakness, suppression and nausea hit him hard, and it took every bit of self-respect to not break down then and there. He wasn't even sure he would be welcomed. It wouldn't surprise him if he wasn't. Judging by the way things had unfolded after his departure he was convinced that his friend would certainly harbor some resentment for him. For even though he was a wise, learned man, Ashwatthama, like the rest of them, was also a slave to his heart. It would take a special kind of discipline and control to completely detach one's mind from humane emotions, and he doubted anyone, even his friend could possibly accomplish a feat like that.

Thunder growled behind him and he could hear the soft pattering of rain against the glass windows, their melody soothing his frayed nerves. Just then a strange thought crossed his mind. What if Ashwatthama didn't want to meet him? Why would anyone go hunting in this weather anyways?

He imagined Ashwatthama relaxing in his private chambers when the guards rushed in relaying the news of his visit and Ashwatthama shaking his head, asking them to come up with a decent, believable excuse. And all the ministers and courtesans, staring at him, laughing inwardly that it was taking him this long to get the hint. Maybe all this was simply a ploy to get him to leave.

He shook his head firmly, dismissing the impossible claims from his mind. No matter what had transpired, Ashwatthama would never behave in such a repugnant manner. Surely his friend would, even in the throes of abject fury, hear him out, if not for the sake of friendship then out of sheer decency.

"Angraj, please can I get you anything?", The Chief advisor asked, his voice deep and reverent. When Karna raised an eyebrow, the man flushed and looked away, realising his error a second later. 

"You may address me by my name. And thank you, but I do not require anything. ", He replied. He had relinquished kingship a year ago. Now, he was a nobody. He had thought his cheap and tattered clothes were testimony enough of his fallen status. Clearly, he was mistaken.

The man's lips twitched, and he exhaled in disappointment, eyes focused intently on him. Karna saw pity coupled with awe in them and he wasn't sure what to make of it. He wondered what he had done to deserve such consideration. 

The whispers and murmurs came to a sudden halt and Karna swivelled in his chair to find Ashwatthama standing at the doorway, wide eyed, staring at him in anguish. He stood up, trying to speak, but the emotion rising at the back of his throat wouldn't let him. Slowly, as the courtroom watched, Ashwatthama neared him, slack jawed, chest heaving, eyes searching for an answer. Karna’s gut wrenched with a spasm of anxiety at the intensity of his stare and the emotion that wrecked his features. The Chief Advisor left his side and went up to his king, even as the whispering started again, but Ashwatthama raised his hand and immediately silenced the room. Karna had never seen such raw feeling on his friend’s face before. He looked positively distraught, grappling with his emotions.

"Karna", he mumbled, sounding terribly weak.

"Come to my private chambers. We will talk there.". 

He headed out and Karna followed silently behind him, both men ignoring the dumbfounded looks on the faces of the courtiers who broke into feverish speculation the minute they left the room. 

They crossed the hallway, ascended a staircase and entered a large room, grand and magnificent as befitting a king. The servants bowed at them, and Ashwatthama waved them off requesting that they be left alone. Karna took this time to glance at the room and couldn't help but smile at the lustrous bookcase wherein lay a large collection of manuscripts and ancient texts, looked after with much diligence.

"What is it?", Ashwatthama asked, noticing his smile as he removed his gold crown and placed it on the wooden side table thoughtlessly.

Karna flourished a hand at the bookcase, "Glad to see some things never change."

Ashwatthama nodded with an expression of relief that quickly morphed into pain. Then suddenly, without any warning or sign of his intention, his friend lurched forward enveloping him in a bone-crushing hug. For a moment Karna stood frozen in stunned disbelief before hugging him back, feeling some of his apprehensions ebb away. He heard Ashwatthama whispering against his shoulder and felt the tears on his angavastram. 

"You selfish, stupid, pathetic excuse of a friend!", he choked out and Karna grimaced at the obvious hurt in his voice.

"I am so sorry…"he trailed off. There was so much to apologize for he didn't know where to begin. "I missed you so much."

Ashwatthama pulled away, wiping away at his eyes furiously before gesturing him to take a seat at the round table near them. Both men took a minute to compose themselves, watching as the sky flashed and roared and the rain fell down harder, making it impossible to see outside. Ashwathamma walked up to a metal cabinet and brought out a bottle of sura, the light from the flickering candles making the liquid glisten like liquid gold. 

"I'd rather not.", Karna said, eyeing the bottle cautiously.

"Yes, you will.", Ashwatthama replied in a voice that bore no argument.

He poured them both two glasses and pushed one towards him. Karna sighed, then swallowed the drink in one swift gulp before setting the glass down hard on the table. He considered having another. The alcohol had calmed his nerves and dissipated some of his anxiety. Nodding at the bottle, he ignored the mischievous smirk on his friend’s face.

"How are you?", He asked after taking another swig.

Ashwatthama shrugged casually and finished off his drink. "I am fine."

"You ordered them not to disturb us."

He raised a sculpted eyebrow at him. "I did."

"So you don't have to lie."

His expression changed. He leaned back and stretched his legs. “Does it really matter?”

“Yes. It matters to me whether my friend is doing okay.”

“Heavy words from the man who left without a warning.”

“You pretend as if you don’t know why.”

“I don’t. I am aware of the multitude of reasons that must have assaulted you when you picked up your bow to aim at any of the Pandavas but I don’t know which one ultimately persuaded you to drop them.

“It was all of them. And none of them.”

Aswatthama guffawed but without any real amusement. “I didn’t expect you to become so cryptic.”

“I didn’t expect that you would cocoon yourself in this grand mansion. Yet here we are.”

Ashwathamma closed his eyes and bit down his lower lip. Karna drank the sura waiting for him to speak. It didn’t take long.

“I ordered the guards to not let him enter the city when I came back from Hastinapur. Not that he would have but you know……..just in case. My mother fell sick but I couldn’t…..go back. I sent the best physicians and nurses to look after her and she recovered well. He’s been sending letters ever since.”

“What does he have to say?”

“Don’t know. Haven’t opened any.”

“Does he even know the reason for your anger?”

“I highly doubt it.”

They spent the next few minutes in silence. Karna’s heart ached for his friend who had done everything humanly possible to please his father only for the said father to not display an iota of pride for him. While others played in the sunlight, a young Ashwatthama meticulously read through sacred texts and passages, absorbing the knowledge that was the foundation of his sagacity. He toiled hard to gain mastery in all forms of weaponry- swords, daggers, spears, javelins and archery, of course. Barely eating, barely sleeping when he mastered a new astra he ran to his father, giddy with excitement waiting for the recognition that never came. Because Arjuna had already learnt that a week ago. And besides, he was Drona’s son, so naturally he would be good at it. Stop wasting time with Duryodhana and keep pace with Arjuna, his father would advise him. Wiping away his tears, Ashwatthama would do as he was told. Until the day he couldn't bear it anymore.

Suddenly, Aswatthama slammed his fist into the table and shook his head. “Forget it. I don’t even care anymore.”

“I completely believe you.”

Ashwatthama laughed again, but it was an empty laugh full of bitterness. Karna placed his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Despite everything, you know he cares for you. He just doesn’t know how to express it.”

Aswatthama rolled his eyes. Drona was very good at expressing how skilled Arjuna was, how quickly he learnt everything and how proud he was of his favorite student. His face brightened every time he met Arjuna, and he never spared a chance to exalt his virtues and dexterity until an embarrassed Arjuna requested him to stop. All eyes were glued upon the gracious guru and his talented student. It was only Karna who saw the obvious hurt on Ashwatthama’s face that he tried to hide under a smile whilst he listened to his father go on and on about Arjun capabilities. Sometimes Karna thought that Drona should have simply adopted Arjun and thrown out Ashwatthama to spare him anymore pain. It would have been a favour.

“Let’s just stop talking about all of this.”, Ashwatthama declared.

“Not talking about it is not going to make it go away. At least read what he has to say.”

“No! I can’t go through all that again. And why are you defending him so much? As far as I remember you couldn’t care less about him!”

“I don’t care about him. I care about you.”

Drona really hated him, which he made apparent with his caustic jeers and snide remarks targeting everything from his caste to his capabilities, taking immense pleasure in belittling a man who had once begged him for tutelage. He laughed whenever anyone compared him with his star student because Karna wasn’t even worthy of licking the feet of the mighty Arjun. Drona’s insults hit him harder because unlike others who considered him a fraud at best, Drona thought of him as an aberration. Something that should have never existed in the first place. Something that should have been discarded the minute it was born. He wondered if Drona knew how close this particular jibe had been to reality. Sometimes he believed that Drona was right. He really shouldn’t be in this world.

“Karna, trust me, it’s better this way.”

“This way? How is isolating yourself till the end of your days going to help? ”

“Says who? The guy who disappeared after betraying his best friend!”

Karna felt like someone had stabbed him straight in the heart. Ashwatthama’s irritation vanished to be replaced by genuine concern at Karna’s reaction. “ I didn't mean it like that...I am so sorry.” 

“It’s alright.” He answered.

“No”, Ashwatthama inched closer, inspecting him with regretful eyes. “I was out of line...Please Karna, don’t be upset.”

“It’s fine, Ashwatthama. I suppose I should prepare myself for worse.” 

His friend bowed his head. Even he knew that there was no point in arguing about this. “But Karna, how will you fight?...I mean it's not like either the Pandavas or Kauravas have a favourable impression of you.”

“Krishna insists that he will handle everything.”, Karna replied. He refused to make eye contact as he asked softly, “How is he?”

Ashwatthama sighed heavily. He knew very well who Karna was talking about. “What do you think? When he’s not drinking himself into oblivion or lashing out at anyone who dares to approach him he spends his time locked up in his room, miserable and alone, blaming himself for the death of his brothers. I wanted to stay longer but things were piling up here”, Ashwathama gesticulated.

“King Dhritarashtra sent me a letter regarding Duryodhana’s failing health. He’s really worried. Duryodhana refuses to listen to anyone. They don’t know what to do.”

Ashwatthama dropped his chin into his chest and mumbled. “The only person who could possibly get to him is you, Karna.” 

Karna nodded but didn't say a word. He could feel physical pain in his skull at the thought of causing so much grief to his most beloved friend. Anger and guilt bubbled in his chest and he wondered what terrible sins he had committed in his past life to warrant his absolutely pathetic existence. At times he wanted to just….well pierce his heart with a dagger and be done with it. Sure now he knew that he was a Kshatriya but for the rest of the world he was still a lowly, downtrodden Suta. The label of a coward would be yet another colorful addition to all the wonderful things he had been called in his life. It wasn't half as bad as bastard.

"How about we take up your suggestion. Stop talking and get drunk?", Karna said after a while.

Ashwatthama smiled at him and raised his glass. "Sounds like a plan."


	2. Blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This lockdown is making me go insane. Here's the second chapter. Enjoy.

Karna deposited his inebriated friend on the circular bed, right in the centre of the room. Placing a quilt over Ashwathama’s limp body, he instructed the servants to ensure that nobody disturbed the king in the morning. Courtly affairs could wait, he reasoned, and it was imperative that Ashwatthama had a good night’s sleep. The dark circles that marred his friend’s fair face were a clear evidence of how overworked Ashwathama was. In this sense they were similar, for Karna too had a habit of engaging himself in other things whilst his mind battled thoughts that were less than pleasant.

He walked across the room and sat down on the wooden armchair next to the windowsill. Adjusting the cushions, he sneaked a glance outside at the stormy sky that had been finally silenced. The Moon and the stars shone brightly against the sheet of darkness, and the gentle wind caressing his face calmed him down as his mind ventured back to what Aswathamma had said.

Duryodhana. He had never meant to hurt him, the only man from a family of nobles who had ever stood up for him, the only prince from the coterie of princes who dared to befriend a sutaputra. Intransigent and iconoclastic, he had refused to abandon him even as his loved ones erupted in a kerfuffle at his insubordination and his audacity to challenge their parochial views. And how had Karna repaid him? By forsaking him in the most important battle of their lifetime.

He squeezed his eyes tightly shut and shuddered. A year had passed and yet it felt like it had only been a mere hour since he had dropped his bow on the ground, refusing to take part in the killing of his greatest foe’s son. Jumping off his chariot he had fought off Dushasana and Ashwatthama, pushed past a frenzied Drona and lurched forward to catch Abhimanyu in time as the wheel fell from the boy’s hands. He remembered staring at the kid with bloodshot eyes, appalled at what they had done and what they were about to do. Abhimanyu’s face was battered, bruised and cut in so many places that it took Karna a few moments to remember how he looked before. The handsome boy, a facsimile of his warrior father, perhaps exceeding him in valour and fortitude now reduced to a broken, bloody mess.

Abhimanyu’s eyes shone with pain, hysteria and confusion and his breathing was ragged because one of Drona’s arrows had lodged itself deep in his chest. He was more likely to die from the shock of what he had experienced than any of his innumerable injuries, courtesy of the greatest warriors on the Kauravas' side. Behind him Karna heard Duryodhana shouting, but for once his mind refused to hear a word of what his best friend had to say. He released his hand from where he was holding Abhimanyu and shivered at the amount of blood that now covered his arm. He raised his head and looked up to see Drona standing nearby, confusion etched upon his face as well as horror.

Karna tried to stand up, to call for help when Abhimanyu grabbed him with his bloodied hands, shaking his head violently, holding onto him as if he were his lifeline. The kid was in such extensive trauma that he could hardly speak and he continued to stare at him in mute horror, trying not to cry. _No_ , Karna mentally screeched, _he was so young_. Dragged into a war he didn't fully comprehend. But perhaps in a way they had all been thrust into this war at the hands of their emotions and ego, their rage and resentments before they had a chance to perceive the ramifications of the calamitous war until it was too late.

“Hold on, Son. You are going to be fine. Do you hear me?”, Karna whispered. Abhimanyu’s grip on his shoulder and arms tightened and Karna didn’t dare imagine what kind of pain the kid was fighting off just to stay awake. He needed immediate medical attention.

Karna adjusted himself such that Abhimanyu’s head rested on his lap, then recoiled in horror when his green dhoti turned stark red in a matter of seconds.

"Abhimanyu, stay with me. Don't give up. Look at me."

Abhimanyu's eyes fluttered, but he held his gaze and nodded weakly.

"Radheya!"

Karna swivelled to look at his best friend, who stood frozen in confusion.

“What…. are you doing?”

“No Duryodhana, I…...can’t….I am sorry...but..”, Karna trailed off. He bit his lips hard, drawing blood. The physical pain was the only thing that distracted him from the whirlpool of thoughts that threatened to drag him to the deepest caverns of his mind. The place where he hid those dark emotions, objectionable opinions and unattainable desires which he simulated he didn't have. Such was his facade that he had fooled everyone into believing that he was indeed made of stone. The only person who could claim to know him was his wife, Vrushali, and yet there were facets of his being that he had kept hidden from her as well. He had given pieces of himself to all, but not all to anyone.

"Karna!" Duryodhana called again, shoving Dushasana aside, who had been trying to placate his elder brother. He had noticed how Duryodhana's voice wavered, as the first hint of doubt crept into a friendship that had never faltered before. A friendship that had fought prejudice, dogmatism and discrimination only to lay ruin at its biggest test. It must have been only a few minutes, but it felt like interminable hours that stretched in the silence.

He turned his gaze back at Abhimanyu who was staring at with something akin to wonderment; beneath the pain there was a renewed faith that burned in his eyes. Karna cupped Abhimanyu's face and the kid whimpered, sounding terribly frail. Karna sighed heavily. It was time to make a decision. One that he knew would change everything. Dimly, he remembered what Krishna had told him by the riverside and he knew that what he did next would have a monumental impact not just on his life but on the lives of everyone who were battling around him. Yes, kings and soldiers died every second, but the war raged on, indifferent to all.

A decision had to be made. As he looked down, he was gripped by a fierce anger at what he had done and what he had become, for there were wounds on Abhimanyu that bore his name. Suspended between rage and disappointment, he finally made a choice.

"Karna! What….I don't….what are you doing?", Duryodhana's voice cut him like a dagger but he ignored his best friend as he picked up the broken body of Abhimanyu.

"This is going to hurt a little", he whispered and Abhimanyu whimpered back, in too much pain for coherent talk. Slowly and steadily the two made their way back to his chariot and Karna had to look away from the bloody trail that Abhimanyu had left on the ground. From the corner of his eyes, he noticed the stunned disbelief on Duryodhana's face and the bitterness that would replace all the love he had harboured for him. Behind him, Shakuni trembled in rage and betrayal, his beady eyes fixed upon him like a hawk on its prey.

He laid the broken boy in his chariot and as carefully as possible he removed the arrow lodged in Abhimanyu's chest. Abhimanyu groaned loudly and Karna quickly moved to stop the blood flow by fastening his angavastram around Abhimanyu's chest. When he tightened the knot, Abhimanyu screamed so hard that he forgot to breathe and the result was the kid coughing up blood all over his face.

“Stay awake. No matter what, please don't lose consciousness.”

Karna wasn't sure how much of what he said landed, but he had no time for contemplation since Abhimanyu's body was bleeding by the second. He called out to his charioteer, ordering him to take them to the Pandavas tent. Surely Nakul and Sahadeva could heal him………..although Karna wasn't sure if Abhimanyu would make it considering he was losing blood at an alarming rate.

"Karna!"

Duryodhana's eyes burned with intensity. He didn't look angry but rather heartbroken, and Karna despaired when he saw Duryodhana's face crumble, his lips moving inaudibly as the reality of Karna’s forsaking hit him. In his mind, he must have known what this meant. Karna longed to tell him all that had been going on in his head since the day Krishna had revealed the secret of his parentage. But how could he? When he himself couldn't believe the truth that had the potential to shatter all that had been built in the last few decades. The truth that would not only bring the war to the end but also render it entirely meaningless.

Closing his eyes, he begged his charioteer to move lest he lose his resolve and dissolve into nothingness. But even though he had chosen to not see, he still felt the frustration, anger and sorrow that he was leaving behind in Duryodhana's heart.

His chariot criss-crossed through the maze of battling soldiers as it hurried to reach the Pandava camp. He had expected that someone would stop him but Duryodhana was too stunned, Drona was too ashamed and Shakuni too weak to do so. Shouting orders on how to break through the Chakravyuh, he kept checking up on the teenager who was mumbling incoherently, staring at the blue sky overhead with heavy-lidded eyes. He felt Abhimanyu's grip on his hand harden when the chariot rocked owing to the unevenness of the land but he didn't berate his charioteer nor did he ask him to slow down. Time was running out.

Deep down, Karna still couldn't believe what had happened. This morning he had awoken with a renewed resolve to win this war for his best friend and destroy their enemies and now in less than four hours he had deserted the same friend and was heading towards the rival camp. It was a surreal feeling as he whizzed past friends and foes charging at each other and he was hammered with a strange sensation in his heart, one that he would carry for the rest of his life.

Guilt.

From the corner of his eye, he noticed the Pandavas riding alongside him with Nakul taking the lead to guide his charioteer to the medical tent. He glanced at Yudhisthira whose face twisted in pain and despair once he noticed the extent of Abhimanyu's injuries. The Pandavas had seen it unfold in rising dread, as the Kauravas had all but pounced upon the defenceless teenager whose expression changed from confusion to stark realization once the ruthless ingenuity of Dronacharya’s plan became known to all. Guru Drona, the Kaurava commander ignored his desperate pleas to follow the rules of war, reminding his subordinates the deplorable manner in which the Pandavas had bested Grandfather Bheeshma, using Shikhandi as a shield. Outside, Jayadrath had kept them at bay turning them into mute spectators as the horror show continued inside the Chakravyuh. He remembered hearing the Pandavas lament at the Kauravas’ deception and their own foolishness, for it had been at their insistence that Abhimanyu had entered the Chakravyuh.

Udit halted the chariot in front of a large, white tent close to what he assumed were the women quarters. Nakul had already alerted the healers about what had happened, and Karna recognized the man he was talking to. Vibodh, the chief medical examiner at Hastinapur who had resigned in anger and disgust following Draupadi’s Vastraharan and the Pandavas subsequent twelve year exile. A loud cry emerged from his right and Karna turned to find a horrified Subhadra screeching and flailing at the calamity that had befallen her son. Draupadi emerged from behind the curtains and grabbed Subhadra in her arms who had fallen to the ground in a mess. She looked up at him; her face withdrawn and vacant except for a deep emotion in her eyes that Karna instantly recognised because he had been feeling the same way since his encounter with Krishna on the banks of Ganga- despair at the cruel turn of destiny.

Tearing his eyes away from the two women, Karna picked up Abhimanyu in his arms and rushed inside the tent, following Nakula and Vibodh. He placed Abhimanyu gently on the cotton sheets and planted a pillow under his head. Vibodh yelled instructions at his attendants just as the rest of the Pandavas entered and immediately pulled Nakula aside, bombarding him with their own inquiries.

As Karna fiddled with the pillow he was caught by Abhimanyu’s eyes, dark and serious, fixed intently upon him.

“Son, you are safe now.” He mumbled. Abhimanyu responded by grasping his hand firmly in his own and exhaling deeply. The attendants bustled around him, carrying clean cotton bandages and medicinal herbs in their arms as Vibodh examined Abhimanyu’s injuries. Nakul cut through his nephew’s battle armour and hissed at the blood that had coagulated into blobs round the gashes on his chest. Sahadeva removed Abhimanyu’s gorget and spaulder with great caution and called for clean water. Behind him, Yudhisthira and Bheema stood together, devastated, as Subhadra’s cries found their way inside the tent.

Vibodh, who had knelt down to examine the wound on Abhimanyu’s thigh, stood up and shook his head in disbelief. He conversed with Sahadeva regarding the lacerations and nodded as the two reached an agreement regarding the apt medical procedure. Vibodh glanced at Yudhisthira and Bheem, accompanied by Draupadi and Subhadra, who had calmed down sufficiently to be granted access to Abhimanyu.

“Princes, I believe it is imperative that we begin the healing process. I must ask you all to leave.”

Yudhishthira nodded at him and Karna stood up from the chair that had been arranged by one of the attendants when Abhimanyu yelled suddenly. “No!”

Sahadeva rushed forward but Abhimanyu continued to scream, shoving him aside with his free arm. Nakula tried to help him sit up but Abhimanyu began to hyperventilate, uttering nonsense words as his uncles beseeched him to calm down. Karna barely registered how Abhimanyu’s nails tore into his skin, drawing blood when Bhima had attempted to break his grasp. If possible, he clung even harder.

“Abhimanyu!!”, Karna shouted, overwrought with emotion. He placed his hand on the kid’s shoulder, applying just enough pressure so as to catch his attention.

“Son! I know it hurts, but I need you to calm down. Look around you, your family is here.”. Abhimanyu glanced at the others who stood frozen in shock at his manic behaviour, so unlike the composed and well-mannered boy he was. Subhadra released a heartbreaking sob and Abhimanyu, hearing his mother’s voice, finally relaxed and nodded at Karna. His breathing returned to normal though it was still frail, and he didn’t even flinch when Nakula removed his battle armour and handed it to an attendant. But despite everything, Abhimanyu refused to unhand him, ignoring Vibodh and his helpers who kept lamenting about infections and whatnot.  
Yudhisthira sighed and motioned for the others to follow him out. Just as he left, he turned and glanced at him. Karna gasped because in that instant Yudhisthira gave him a glimpse of everything- his insecurities, his weaknesses, his confusion and the burden that came with being the eldest Pandava.

Karna wasn't sure how long he sat there holding Abhimanyu's hand and whispering words of encouragement like a father would. It had taken them close to three hours just to clean the mess that was his blood and tissue. His olfactory senses registered the pungent odours from the various decoctions of medicinal herbs that the youngest Pandava was brewing in the corner. Sahadeva wiped the sweat from his brow as he stirred the pot, checking for consistency before calling on his brother Nakula, who was busy stitching up the mutilated parts of his nephew. Vibodh cleaned up the puss from the wound on Abhimanyu's thigh and rubbed brown paste over the blackened, charred skin. Karna flinched, remembering that the wound was his own doing. The knowledge made him feel numb inside.

He could feel the tension emanating from those in the room as they vacillated between mounting despair and failing hope, between grotesque optimism and practical cynicism. The wait felt endless.


	3. Decision

The sun had set behind the hills and darkness had fallen upon them with large clouds moving overhead, blocking the moonlight. It was at this point when finally Vibodh declared with barely suppressed relief that Abhimanyu would survive. A loud cry rose through the attendants and Nakula rushed out to inform his family of this development. Vibodh and his attendants immediately began to clear the room, disposing off the soiled, bloody clothes and the copper utensils that had been used to create the medicines. Tremors crawled over Karna's body at the thought that the grueling wait was over. A part of him rejoiced at the fact that his name would not be tainted with the blood of his nephew, that even though his betrayal had caused tremendous grief to his best friend and to himself, at least some good had come out of it.

Sahadeva collapsed in a heap near him, his hands covered in the medicinal paste he had prepared for the burns on Abhimanyu's thighs and chest.

Something stirred in Karna’s heart when he noticed how weak and small Sahadeva looked. In that instant he was not an accomplished warrior, nor a noble prince but a crushed man overwhelmed with the herculean task of trying to save his nephew from the clutches of death. And now that he had done it, he would have to battle his conscience which would remind him every day that it had been the Pandavas themselves who had entreated Abhimanyu to enter the Chakravyuh which had resulted in this tragedy.

The five brothers had seen their own share of suffering but nothing could ever beat watching their son, for all Pandavas considered Abhimanyu as such, lying in a state like this. Karna remembered how Sahadeva's hands had trembled while applying the paste and Vibodh had taken it from him gently, unburdening him of the task.

Perhaps it was fatigue that made him reach out to Sahadeva, whose face still hadn't lost the look of pure disbelief at what had transpired today.

"Are you…." Karna's voice was soft and kind, "Are you all right?"

Sahadeva didn't respond, instead he rolled up his legs and rested his face upon his knees.

"Hey it's ok. It's over.", Karna said, placing his hand on younger man's shoulder. Sahadeva stiffened but didn't look up, nevertheless Karna took it as a sign and felt emboldened enough to run a hand through Sahadeva's hair. The youngest Pandava’s head snapped up, and he stared at him like he was seeing him for the first time. The look he gave him, one of breathtaking vulnerability, felt so unreal that Karna removed his hand in a hurry, frustrated at himself for crossing his boundaries. Sahadeva whimpered as if…….as if…...protesting the loss of touch.

But what happened next was even more inexplicable. Instead of lashing out at Karna for his part in Abhimanyu's current state, instead of lambasting him for breaking the code of honour, Sahadeva gazed at him with calm desperation, frowning in deep thought. He was searching for something; his eyes flicked across his face in wonderment as sorrow clouded his features.

Lost in reflection, both men started upon hearing a distinct clattering of hooves on the ground and a gut-wrenching cry of woe from outside. He had completely forgotten about Arjuna, his arch nemesis, who now Karna knew was also his brother.

Karna turned to a sleeping Abhimanyu and whispered in his ear, "Look son, your father has arrived.". Then as gently as possible he released his hand from Abhimanyu's grip and stepped back as a frenzied Arjuna entered the tent with the rest of his brothers in tow. Karna was sure that Arjuna hadn't even registered his presence such was his grief, and he took that opportunity to slip past the Pandavas.

But Karna felt like he was stabbed by a thousand arrows when Arjun let out a wordless, keening wail from inside the tent. It felt like the world had shifted on its axis , this man who Karna had dreamed of humiliating and killing in a fair battle, this man who had never shied from insulting Karna for his lineage, today this man's sorrow caused him as much grief as perhaps Duryodhana's misery would. How could he compare the two? One had befriended him and offered the world that had been forever out of his reach, the other had always treated him with condescension and hostility. One was a friend and the other, his biggest enemy.

The furious winds that blew in the night were nothing compared to the storm rising in his heart as he made his way to the Kaurava camp. If only lightning could strike and relieve him of this miserable existence. His eyes flew skywards, and he wished the Sun God would emerge in the all-encompassing darkness for just one second so he would know that he wasn’t as alone as he felt. Indeed, he felt completely separated from everyone in this battlefield and beyond, his heart had always been perpetually ensconced in solitude despite all the love he had received in his life.

“Karna!”

He froze in his tracks. With quick, imperative steps Shri Krishna, the Lord of the Yadavas closed in on him, holding his hand with profound gentleness as he eyed him keenly. The expression on his face was one of complete and utter bewilderment and Karna wondered if it was appropriate to laugh at the fact that he had done what no other had ever done- turn the charismatic statesman speechless. Krishna looked at an absolute loss for words and Karna took that opportunity to release his hand from his hold.

“Forgive me, O’ Mighty King of Dwarka, but I must take your leave. I have to deposit this golden crown that rests upon my head at my beloved friend's feet and pray that he finds it in his heart to forgive me.”

“But...I don’t understand….”

He knew what Krishna was referring to. Their last meeting on the banks of Ganga where he had revealed the truth of his origin and in one single stroke crushed his indomitable spirit . And then he had offered on a platter every desire that had ever secured a place in his heart for one very simple request- leaving Duryodhana and joining the Pandavas. Oh, what not had been presented to him in a last ditch effort to turn back time and prevent the whole of Aryavarta from pulverizing in the impending holocaust. With a heavy heart he had turned away from the divine being and refused his munificent offer for the sake of his best friend who had held his hand when the whole world was laughing at him.

“Have you decided to join the Pandavas?”

Karna’s mouth snapped back in a thin line. He had not missed the elation that had found its way in Krishna’s voice. He looked away and let out a shaky breath.

“Is that what you think of me? Tell me, maternal cousin have you still not understood me even a little bit?”.

He took a step back and turned his attention to the tent where Abhimanyu lay, battered and bruised but still alive. “No, I have not joined the Pandavas. Out of pity I intervened to put an end to the senseless brutality against your nephew at the hands of my comrades. I…...”, Karna stopped, not knowing what else to say.

“Dear Vasusena, you have acted out of the goodness of character that despite being subjected to tremendous amounts of grief and affronts never wavered from the path of dharma. It is that righteousness that made you act when you witnessed first-hand the chicanery of the Kauravas.”

“Do not presume this to be anything more than what it is, Krishna. My heart, my body, my soul still belong to Duryodhana. What I have done….I do not understand it fully, but this is not the time for introspection. I must leave now.”.

Karna turned around to begin his journey west. True hopelessness engulfed him then. He was no fool, he knew what this meant. It was the end of the friendship that had sparked light in his otherwise dark existence. It had taken one smile and an extended hand to change him from a bitter man who stood with his head lowered and elevated him to becoming an equal to the Kuru princes. The gravity of what he had done finally hit him and his knees buckled at the thought of the future.

“Karna!”

“What is it , Krishna? Why do I hear pity in your voice? Why are you not rejoicing that your words and the words of your virtuous aunt”, he spit out with volcanic fury, “managed to break my resolve. That ultimately I succumbed to the emotions that have wreaked havoc upon me since the day he learnt the truth. The War is over, Krishna. After my desertion there is no one left who can possibly beat the Pandavas. Your venerable cousins will taste the sweet nectar of victory while my name will be tarnished as the one who abandoned his friends. Go on, Krishna. Go to your cousins, and celebrate your success. Do not sully this sweet victory by engaging yourself with me.

“What?”, Krishna screamed and grabbed his arm roughly, the muscles in his cheek twitching from the accusations that he had thrown at him. “Do you honestly believe that I don’t care about you, cousin? That Mata Kunti doesn’t love her eldest? How could you possibly think that?”

“Forgive me if my words hurt you Krishna but they reflect the reality of this crude world. Your large heart brims with mercy and love for the most pitiable men and women and I am glad to have received some of it for that brief amount of time. Rest assured, I understand that your divinity is preserved for Arjuna.”

He couldn’t keep the resentment out of his voice when he mentioned Arjuna. Arjuna had been his brother for only a few weeks. He had been his nemesis for far longer. 

Karna gritted his teeth and exhaled. “As for Mata Kunti, do not mock my intelligence, Krishna, by claiming that your esteemed aunt approached me out of some deep-seated love. No, her eyes did not seek the sight of her eldest, her hands were not folded in a prayer for his safety. They sought the welfare of her five illustrious sons for whom she finagled a promise of security from a charioteer’s son. Yes, a charioteer’s son for that is who I am and will remain so for all eternity.”.

Karna turned away, feeling the familiar bitterness rise in his heart when he thought of his mother and how callously she had abandoned him in the waters of Ganga without a backwards glance. What if Adhiratha had not found him? He could have died and she wouldn’t have even known.

“Karna you cannot possibly imagine the respect that I harbour for you and you alone. You have no idea of your own glory and magnificence that dwarves that of the bravest of warriors who have fought on this land. You are the son of Surya, your radiance is unparalleled and shines brightly, illuminating for others the path to true enlightenment. As for Mata Kunti, she has wept every day for you, cousin. If you can, find mercy in your heart and forgive her.”

Karna closed his eyes and willed away the pain. Such praise from Krishna filled him with shame for his earlier outburst. The knot in his stomach twisted further. They heard a distinct sound like the breaking of a twig and both the men stared at the dark forest on alert for wild beasts. Karna didn't bring any weapons, and he had ordered his chariot to be returned to the Kaurava camp, meanwhile Krishna stood empty handed because of his oath. But no wildebeest roared at them from the caverns of the gigantic shrubs. It was only the two of them in the inky darkness.

A hollow, empty laugh escaped his lips. “Your words remind me of Ashwathama. But they are misplaced. I am not deserving of your admiration.”.

Krishna’s face softened. He sighed slowly, deep lines forming on his forehead. “I know my pleas will not hinder you for even a moment. Go on then son of Surya, do what you think is right. But remember that you will always find a place back here. Remember that your brothers, the same ones who hurled weapons at you will fall at your feet and beg forgiveness if you chose to reveal the truth. Your mother will cry openly for all the grief that you have suffered on her account and ensure that you get your rightful recognition as Kaunteya. You will be welcomed with open arms, showered with all the love and respect that destiny cheated you of."

Karna nodded at him, grateful for his sympathy and benevolence that he had done nothing to deserve. Krishna’s unshakable faith in him stirred his spirits and with the gait of a fearless lion he made his way back to the Kauravas. What has been done is done. It was now time to face the consequences of his actions. Everything else was relegated to the back of his mind. He had made a decision. Now he had to own up to it.

For a brief second he was tempted to turn around and see whether Krishna was standing there, watching the march to his ruin. But his back was stiff and his mind would not yield to such emotions. He carried on without a glance backwards, with only the darkness of the night and silence of the forest as his allies.


	4. Daughter

Karna lounged in the lavish guest room that Ashwatthama had allocated for him, ignoring his request for a plain one that befitted his status. Strange, for Ashwatthama knew that Karna had always preferred simple living. Had the crown on his head made him forget this? Or was this another one of Ashwatthama’s useless attempts to shield him from the questioning looks in the eyes of commoners and noblemen alike. Three days had passed since he had arrived and he was not unaware of the uproar that his surprise visit had caused. He had not been seen for an entire year by anyone in Bharatvarsh and now he had suddenly appeared out of thin air at Northern Panchala where his friend lived. The only one with whom he could share his distress, the only one he knew who would not spurn him when he saw him at his doorstep. 

The month of Ashada had brought the monsoon winds early, covering the blue sky with dark, heavy crowds pregnant with rain. He stared at the sky, mesmerized, barely noticing the ecclesiastical servant who waited and then coughed aloud to garner his attention. With proper intonation he announced, “Maharaja requests your presence in the Guest Hall.”

Karna nodded at him and followed him out to where Ashwatthama stood chatting with his chief minister. Both men smiled upon his entry. 

“Pranam, Maharathi Karna.”

With folded hands and a bowed head, the aging minister greeted him. Karna raised an eyebrow at Ashwatthama and accepted the gracious welcome. They exchanged a few pleasantries and then the Chief Minister left in a hurry, citing some important work.

“What’s with him?” Karna asked, confused at the minister’s strange behaviour.

“Bhadran is excited, much like the rest of the kingdom. He has left to make preparations for the day after tomorrow.”

“Why? What’s going on?”

Ashwatthama handed him a letter painted with the royal insignia of Dwarka. “Vasudev Krishna sent this. It is his wish to stay here in Panchala for a few days. He has requested that you and I accompany him on his journey to Hastinapura next week.”

Karna was surprised. He had been planning to leave for Krishna’s kingdom in a few days since Krishna had insisted that he would take care of his questionable appearance in Hastinapura. And why shouldn't he? He had as much part in this predicament as Karna did. Still, he had no idea how Krishna was going to explain his presence to the Pandavas who Karna was sure hated him with the intensity of a thousand infernos. And what about the Kauravas? What would Krishna say to them? And more importantly, why would they listen to a man who they had insulted as a trickster in the royal court, in the presence of King Dhritrashtra.

While countless questions like these bubbled inside his mind he watched as the kingdom was adorned like a young bride to welcome the charismatic Krishna, who bards had already proclaimed as the eight avatar of Lord Vishnu. Bhadran looked like he would suffer a stroke from anxiety as his eyes searched the horizon for the contingent from Dwarka. Ashwatthama, eager and pleased to have the honor of hosting Krishna, busied himself in the preparations, staying up late at night to check everything. He had to force Dronaputra to get some sleep, assuring him that all will go well. Anticipation mingled with anxiety and the kingdom waited with bated breath for the arrival of the man whose divinity knew no bounds. 

The day finally came and hundreds of citizens gathered in the streets to catch a glimpse of Krishna’s chariot. Men and women had their arms full of flowers to be rained at Krishna, musicians played instruments that lulled the city with their melody and children climbed the highest trees to see him much to the chagrin of their mothers. Ashwatthama, Bhadran and several others had gone to welcome him right at the city outskirts as was custom. Karna stayed behind with the rest of the noblemen who had thankfully been so enamoured by Krishna that they had completely forgotten his presence. 

He watched as hundreds of carriages entered the main city and behind them was the five point chariot that carried Krishna, Ashwatthama and other dignitaries from Dwarka. With his palms folded, Krishna graciously accepted the welcome that was bestowed to him by Ashwatthama’s subjects. His smile was sweeter than the sweetest nectarines, his face glowed with life and joy and his eyes shone with an unworldly radiance as if all the mysteries of the universe rested in them. Enchanted by his sanctity, dazzled by his spirit, heads bowed in reverence to him and he blessed each one of them.

When he finally reached him, Karna joined his hands in deference, but Krishna clasped them with his own and shook his head. A moment of stillness stretched for all eternity in which all Karna did was stare at Krisna’s eyes that shone with deific clarity, reminding him of his Guru Parashuram. How had Krishna achieved that level of sagacity that had taken his mentor decades to earn? That too at such a young age? What was it that he knew that the rest of the world did not? Before each could say a word to another, Krishna was swept away by hordes of courtiers to the royal dining hall where a state lunch had been organized in his honor. His devotees and the rest of Ashwatthama’s noblemen followed behind him, still in awe, leaving him alone with his friend on the palace steps.

“I had never expected that such a day would come again. Do you remember how Duryodhana had insulted him when he had come with the offer of reconciliation?”, Ashwatthama whispered in his ear.

Karna nodded. As if anyone present in that assembly would ever forget. 

“Come along, my presence is necessary for the banquet to commence.”

“You go. I will visit in the evening.”

Before Ashwatthama could argue Karna slipped away, taking the route back to his guest house. He knew it was impolite to not partake in a banquet organized in someone’s honour, but he had an inkling that Krishna would understand. He had never been very keen on such things, and Duryodhana would more or less have to drag him to these useless ceremonies where he barely mingled with anyone. Not that anyone was particularly interested, he was after all, despite whatever Duryodhana may say, a charioteer's son. 

He had almost reached the guesthouse when a woman approached him. Her face shrouded in a ghunghat, she fell down at his feet and asked for his blessings. Bewildered, he blessed the child and startled when he saw her trembling, washing his feet with her tears.

“Child, who are you?”, he asked.

The woman stood up, removed her ghunghat and stared at him with her dark, brown orbs, looking oddly familiar. Her lower lip trembled and her face was set in love and admiration, pure emotions that one sees very rarely in life.

“Do you not recognise me, Uncle Vasu?”

At her charming voice, recognition flooded through him and he took a step back trying to layer the memory of that sweet young girl who followed him around the castle on her little legs to this mature, beautiful woman, so confident and assured in her femininity.

“Lakshmana!” He gasped and watched as her eyes brightened and a smile broke through her lips. She nodded and bent down to touch his feet again. He smiled and placed his hand on her head, calling on his father, the Sun God to bless her and her husband. 

“How much you have grown, Lakshmana. You are the splitting image of your mother, Queen Bhanumathi.”. His voice cracked as he remembered how Lakshmana would trail him like a shadow whenever he visited, forcing him to take her in his lap and tell her stories of his friendship with Duryodhana. She, a Kuru princess, would enter the royal kitchens and make sweets, something she never did for her own parents, and offer them to him, smiling widely when he praised her skills. Her careless laughter, her free spirit, she was the amalgamation of her parents’ personalities- sweet, careful, considerate like her mother but also bold, strong and confident like her father.

“Uncle Vasu, I have missed you terribly.” She admitted and broke down again.

He placed a hand on her shoulders gently. ‘I’ve missed you too, my child.”.

He guided her to an empty bench in the well- maintained garden but she refused to sit alongside him choosing instead to drop at his feet. He felt deeply uncomfortable, she was a Kuru Princess and the daughter-in-law of the Yadavas and he was……….well nothing anymore. It was highly inappropriate for a royal lady of her standing and he tried to convey this to her but she refused outright, squashing his attempts before he even had a chance to test them.

"Uncle Vasu, how can I sit as your equal? You are my father's best friend and my dearest uncle. Tell me which cursed daughter would ever dream to disrespect her uncle like that?" Lakshmana asked him, wiping the corner of her eyes with the edge of her saree.

"Your affection for me has always astounded me, Lakshmana. But today I am speaking to the bahu of the Yadavas. Your station does not permit you to kneel in front of me. I am no longer the King of Anga."

"What? Tell me, Uncle Vasu, do you believe my affection arose only out of respect for your title? Do you think that your relinquishing the throne of Anga in any way lessens my devotion to you? No uncle , I have always been convinced of your nobility and of your generosity that is famed throughout the world. Please don't agitate me with your request, for there is no force on earth that can ever make me treat you with anything other than profound respect."

In that moment, Lakshmana resembled her father, like him her face was set in unshakable determination and Karna knew that any further attempts were futile. He smiled at the young woman and she smiled back, triumphant of her victory.

"Tell me my child, how does married life treat you?" He asked, knowing full well the difficult circumstances in which her marriage had taken place to Krishna's son.

Samba, who had the galls to abduct a Kuru Princess, had been thrown into jail and possibly hanged the next day if Balarama hadn't interfered. Begging forgiveness for his nephew's shameful deeds, he had brokered peace by suggesting marriage between Samba and Lakshmana, disregarding the pivotal fact that Lakshmana had never held Samba in any tenderness. Duryodhana had agreed but everyone knew that the marriage did not have his blessings and the only reason he had accepted the proposal was because no Kshatriya would accept an abducted woman. That incident had further fuelled the hatred he harboured for Krishna, for he believed him to have orchestrated the whole fiasco and there was nothing anyone could do to convince him otherwise.

"I am happy, Uncle. King Balarama indulges me like a daughter, he tells me of the days he trained father and only in his presence I am able to forget the pain of separation from my family in Hastinapura. He listens to me with rapt attention and ensures that every wish of mine sees fruition. Mata Rukmini, Mara Jambavati and the other queens are so lovely and considerate and they hold me in such high esteem. Father in law is so very kind and charming and I enjoy listening to him very much. He even allows me to attend the royal assembly and sometimes he even plays his flute for me. I have found true happiness, you need not worry about me."

While Karna's heart swelled with happiness for Lakshmana, he did notice how she had conveniently not mentioned her husband in her elaborate explanation. It was obvious that Samba had been unable to secure himself in her good graces like the rest of his family. He had no regard for Samba, his deplorable conduct at Lakshmana's swayamvar had erased any bud of admiration that he would have otherwise preserved for Lakshmana's husband. But despite everything, he was Krishna's son. Surely the young man knew how lucky he was to land such a wonderful, delightful woman like Lakshmana whose smile was enough to melt the hearts of the hardest men. But then there was hardly anything he could do about this except pray that the two children worm their way into each other's heart.

"I am so happy to hear this. How much you have matured in the last few years. I can still remember how you played with your dolls and hid behind your mother's aanchal in the presence of elders. Truly, you have exhibited such wondrous grace that I am convinced you would make a fair queen.", He remarked, deeply impressed by her conduct.

She bowed her head at his praise and smiled. "How is my Aunt Vrishali? And my brothers? I hope they are well."

"They are. Your aunt misses you deeply and wishes you a world of happiness. Your brothers reminisce about their sweet sister who showered them with love and affection and tied Rakhi on their wrists. Vrihasena talks about you very often, both of you were very close were you not?"

Lakshmana closed her eyes as if remembering it all, her face glowing with positive warmth and feeling. Then suddenly a perplexed expression passed over her features. She sat up straighter, locked her fingers and gazed at him with wide, frightened eyes. 

"When I heard about what happened…", she trailed off, her tone conveying the depth of her emotion, "I was stunned. But when Uncle you disappeared and no one…..no one saw or heard from you for well over a year...I thought..", she choked and covered her face with her hands. " Father in law Balarama assured me that there is no warrior equal to you but still...I was so worried. I thought that you were…..I thought…”

Something hard and heavy lodged in his throat at her admission and at her worry for him. He hadn't even paused to consider the effect of his actions on her, his mind was filled only with Duryodhana's torment , he had completely forgotten about this lovely child who loved him so deeply. He could hardly face Lakshmana. How would he bear to see the same hurt on the faces of Bhanumathi, Lakshmana Kumar, Mata Gandhari and worse of all Duryodhana?

"And then when the news came that you had come here to visit Uncle Ashwatthama, I prostrated myself in front of Father-in-law begging him to let me come. To let me see you once and quieten the heart that has cried and prayed for your welfare."

Karna's chest tightened, and he was unable to breath from the heavy burden that she had placed on his conscience. Oh Lakshmana, how sincere was she that she aggrieved for him, knowing what had happened. Her heart did not hold the slightest resentment towards him. What could he possibly say to her. What did she want to hear?

"Lakshmana, child, you must stop. Your tears hurt me far more than any weapon that has ever been pitched at me. Do not cry for my sake, for I do not deserve your unwavering admiration and know that wherever I may go, I will always pray for your happiness and prosperity.", He replied, upset at the disquietude his disappearance had caused her.

She shook her head, the corner of her mouth curving into a smile. "Let them fall. I have held them inside me for far too long. Let them fall."

"If only Bhanumathi was here. Her heart would burst from pride. You are truly one of the purest souls I have ever met.", He whispered.

He caressed her cheek with his rough, worn hands as she cried her heart out, the sounds piercing him with the sharpness of a dagger. When she finally quietened down , he raised her from the ground and hugged her gently. The gods had not been generous enough to grant him one but now, in this moment he had felt so very deeply, the pure, sweet love of a daughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Probably not the chapter most of you were expecting. But I sure had fun writing it.


	5. Discussion

(In continuation)......

"Enough now. If you cry any longer the whole of Panchala would be submerged in the flood of your tears.", Karna joked and brightened as Lakshmana laughed heartily for the first time since he had met her. Her laughter eased some of his pain , it was like a soothing balm for his soul.

"Ah, so the two of you have met."

Karna whirled around to find Krishna standing at the entrance of the royal gardens, an enigmatic smile dancing on his lips. He walked towards them with the grace of a panther, his movements smooth and fluid, and patted Lakshmana on her back gently.

"There now, dearest daughter-in-law. Are you convinced now? Did I not tell you that no harm has befallen your beloved uncle?", Krishna asked, even as his face was fixed on Karna, and his smile widened.

"Forgive me for my impertinence, Father in law. I am aware of the distress I have caused you and everyone else back in Dwarka because of my constant worry." Lakshmana said, head lowered in deference.

Krishna laughed merrily. " I am sure that even as we speak Jambavati has her hands full replacing the carpets that you have worn out with your constant pacing.

Color rose to her cheeks, but Krishna wasn't done yet. "And poor elder brother Balarama will finally get a peaceful night of sleep."

Lakshmana hid her face with her hands and Karna couldn't help but chuckle along with Krishna. She looked so young then, and he wished Vrishali was here to see the transformation of Bhanumathi's daughter from a young, naive girl to a strong, virtuous woman. She would have been delighted at Lakshmana's mannerisms and her pleasant nature that was sure to charm anyone who met her.

"Ah, I knew I would find all three of you here. Didn't I tell you so, Bhadran?" Ashwathamma asked his chief minister, who nodded at him, grinning at the happy scene playing in front of him. Forgetting her embarrassment , Lakshmana fell down at Ashwathamma's feet, seeking his blessings.

"Rise my daughter. How are you?" Ashwathamma asked, caressing her cheek much like Karna had done before.

"I am well. How are you, Uncle Ashu?"

"Very disturbed."

Lakshmana's mouth fell open. "What is it, uncle? Why are you upset?"

"What else would I be? I had organised this state dinner to welcome the contingent from Dwarka but my most precious daughter did not show up. What else would I be if not upset?"

"Oh, Uncle. Father in law teases me enough, you are supposed to be on my side.", Lakshmana pouted and the four men burst out in laughter at her sweet reply but Lakshmana, worried still, asked him, "Surely, you are only joking Uncle Ashu?"

"Of course, child. Do you think I missed the way your eyes sought out your beloved uncle? Did you think I was not aware of your apprehension as your face kept darting across the palace balconies, seeking him? "

Lakshmana nodded at him shyly, feeling deeply embarrassed that her consternation had been so obvious. Ashwathamma shook his head, "Don't be so fazed, my daughter, that was the case of everyone who knows Karna. You were not alone in your misery, his absence had left a dent in all of our hearts."

Karna looked away, feeling regret bubble inside him at the sorrow that he had subjected so many people to. It was never his intention but unknowingly he had and there was not much he could do about it now. If only he could tell them all the truth, then maybe his guilt would lessen a bit.

"Come now my child, you must be exhausted from your trip and you haven't eaten anything. I have arranged for lunch in your private quarters." Ashwathamma suggested. Lakshmana turned to him knowing that he had not partaken in the royal feast either, but Karna shook his head. 

"Don't fret over me, Lakshmana I did not journey for so many yojanas like you. Have some rest, we will talk again in the morning."

As Karna said this, it occurred to him that he was seeing Lakshmana after so long and he had nothing to offer her. His hands were bereft of any ornaments, he was clothed in the cheapest cotton and all that he had earned in his conquests had been distributed away in charity. He had kept nothing for himself, but as an uncle, custom required him to to gift her something. But what? What could he give to the Princess of Hastinapura and now the proud, royal bahu of the Yadava clan? This girl who could have the whole world at her feet, if she should so desire, what could he possibly give her as aashirwaad?

Noticing his disinterest in their conversation, Ashwathamma called out to him. "Karna? Are you even listening?"

"Huh...what?"

"Is something the matter, Uncle Vasu?"

Karna turned to the lovely child and murmured in defeat. "Forgive me Lakshmana, I have ...I have nothing to give you away as a gift. I didn't know that you would be coming but even if I did....I have donated all that belonged to me. Here you are decked in the finest robes and the most exquisite jewelry and I...I don't have...anything to offer you."

Ashwathamma looked at him like he had gone insane and Krishna was making an effort not to roll his eyes. They shared a look as if trying to decide what to do with him. Meanwhile, Lakshmana covered his hand with her own and broke into a silent sob. "Do you think of me as that shallow? Do you believe that the crystalline radiance of diamonds, the rich smoothness of silk, the holy purity of gold are worth more than your blessings? The one who is known as Danveer, the one who has set the example of true charity to the world, to have his hand on my head is the greatest gift I could have ever received. Everything pales in comparison, Uncle Vasu."

The Kuru princess continued to surprise him with her wisdom and her uprightness. Truly, she was the daughter of Duryodhana and Bhanumathi. She bowed low, and he made a silent request to Surya Dev to always look after her and her kin.

Ashwathamma whisked her away, inquiring after her health, leaving Karna alone with Krishna in the royal gardens. He had a feeling that his friend had done it on purpose. As their steps faded, he turned to the west, saddened that he had missed today's evening arghya to the Sun God.

"Your father will understand." Krishna said, reading his thoughts expertly.

"The ones who love us will eventually forgive us. But it takes a little longer for us to forgive ourselves." He mumbled, his eyes not leaving the horizon where the last vestiges of the sun shone even as darkness creeped up in the sky.

"Only a conscientious mind cares for the hurt that it causes others. The cruel, the wicked, the evil do not spend a single thought on these matters."

"What's worse, Krishna? To be truly evil? Or to know the difference between right and wrong and still choose the path of adharma?"

"What do you think?"

"I don't know. I feel like I know nothing. What am I even doing? Why are you taking me back to Hastinapura? Why do you insist upon my presence?"

"Hastinapura needs its heroes. It is your duty, your dharma, to protect it."

Karna sighed. He couldn't argue against that logic.

"Have the Kauravas asked for my help? Have they asked the Pandavas? By what right will we fight for Hastinapura if the crown wouldn't recognize us?"

"King Dhritarashtra will formally acknowledge all of you in the presence of the other kings and warriors who will be supporting us. Do not fret over these little things, I have the king in my confidence."

"You have everyone in your confidence.", He said, and Krishna rewarded him with a dazzling smile.

"But what about Duryodhana? Dushasan? And the others? Surely they wouldn't...."

"Duryodhana has resigned from his position as the Crown Prince. He barely leaves his room. If he had any objections to the Pandavas' presence he has not expressed them yet."

Krishna must have noticed his trepidation, must have known his anxiety at having to go back since he took a step forward and squeezed his shoulders .Karna couldn't help but wonder why this was happening now. He had thought, he had hoped that after him leaving, the war would come to an end and peace would prevail. 

And it had. For one full year there had been no bloody wars, no ambitious conquests, no unforeseen sieges; for one year everything had come to a standstill. But of course, a Kshatriya cannot sit around idle, the lust for war and an even greater lust for power can never be satiated by the tranquility of peacetime.

Knowing that Hastinapura was at its weakest, a bunch of kingdoms led by Magadha had conspired to attack the kingdom and bring it down to its knees. Not everyone was happy that the war was over. Some felt that the Kauravas should have paid for their sins with blood for crossing the boundaries put forth by civilized society while others felt that the Pandavas had unjustly put the blame of Draupadi's vastraharan on the Kauravas completely disregarding Yudhisthira's foolishness. Some watching the horror unfold in Kurukshetra, had castigated them both for putting the whole of Aryavarta on the brink of extinction for their petty squabbles. The on-off struggle for power and kingship between Duryodhana and Yudhisthira spanning several decades had worn out the other kings who felt that this tussle and its subsequent consummation in Mahabharata could have been avoided. 

And they weren't wrong. Karna remembered all those missed opportunities, those unsaid words, those careless insults that had deepened the chasm between Kauravas and Pandavas to the point of no return. It wasn't Draupadi's vastraharan that sparked off the battle, no the seeds of bitterness and hatred had taken their time to nurture in the hearts of the Kuru princes until it burnt with such intensity that death was preferred over reconciliation.

Hastinapura was crumbling from the after-effects of the war, as were the other kingdoms who had lost their kings, their armies, their wealth in a way that now felt futile and empty. Subjects openly cursed their rulers, who had jumped on the bandwagon for their personal glory and insatiable ambition, disregarding the lives of lakhs of soldiers who would ultimately pay the price for their selfish pursuits.

Perhaps the temptation to secure a place in history had made them forget their duty towards their subjects. Or maybe they had never really cared.

Things would still have been better if.........Pitamha Bheeshma had not succumbed to his injuries that were a gift from his favorite grandson. How had Arjuna shot one arrow after another, mercilessly, at the man who had held him so dear? While the grandfather had always treated him with hostility and sometimes outright contempt, he had always been so tender, so caring with the Pandavas. Duryodhana may have been wrong about a number of things but he was right about this- the grandfather had always loved the Pandavas more, no matter what he said.

And yet they had killed him in such a despicable manner, shielding themselves with Sikhandi who they knew thirsted for Pitamha Bheeshma's blood. The patriarch's death had all but destroyed the spirit of Hastinapura leaving the kingdom bereft of the protection that they had all taken for granted. Now with him no more in the picture, rival kings could attack Hastinapura, without the paralyzing threat of facing Bheeshma's wrath. The state of the kingdom was like that of a fatherless child and no one would ever serve Hastinapura with the dedication that Pitamha Bheeshma had for so many decades. Now they were hopelessly outnumbered by kings who could finally drop their false geniality and fake assurances to attack, plunder and ravage the richest empire of Aryavarta.

How strange was all of this, he mused. Kings who had fought alongside the Pandavas and Kauravas respectively, had now joined forces to annihilate Hastinapura. Pandavas who had sworn to destroy all of the great men and warriors who were witnesses and therefore complicit in Draupadi's Vastraharan would now help those same men to ward off the forces of destruction that were trampling their way to Hastinapura. The world had shifted on its axis, and decades of alliances and enmity were changing and evolving , taking a different form as confusion between duty and desire gripped Aryavarta. If only Pitamha Bheeshma were still here.

"Krishna, have you considered that your arrival with me would raise a lot of questions? You could also become the target of the fury that is reserved for me. I am putting you in danger as well."

He knew that there were plenty of people who wanted him dead and now with Duryodhana no longer backing him, they were emboldened to go after the Sutaputra who had dared to share the same place as the most noble of all Kshatriyas. His blasphemous act of challenging and defeating scores of kings during his Digvijay conquest had not been forgotten, and now that he was bereft of his best friend's support they could openly proceed to spill his blood as an example to the rest of Sutas.

Krishna shook his head. "Do not worry about my safety. I am not as mighty a warrior as you or Parth, but I can look after myself."

Karna snorted, remembering how Krishna had killed King Sisupal of Chedi with his Sudarshan Chakra in the Pandavas' Rajasuya victory celebrations. Yeah, sure, he was a weakling. It wasn't like he could destroy all of them if he should wish to.

Krishna laughed reading his expression. Exasperated, Karna turned to him with a raised eyebrow. "Here I am worried sick about what will happen and you can't seem to stop laughing. I wonder, how did the Pandavas not go insane dealing with you!", Karna exclaimed.

Krishna laughed harder and patted his back. "They got used to it. As will you."

Get used to it? Why would he get used to it?

But Krishna continued laughing heartily and for a moment Karna was able to forget all the troubles that he would be dealing with very soon when he returned to Hastinapur.


	6. Return

"The arrangements have been made, My Lord. Prince Nakul has taken a look at the horses and I have personally inspected all the chariots and carriages."

Arjuna nodded at his army chief and asked him to retire for the night. Tomorrow they would be headed to Hastinapura, and he wanted to make sure that the journey would be smooth. Having personally supervised the delegates regarding various areas of concern, he was sure that their visit would go as planned without any difficulties. He wished Krishna had chosen to come with them, but their maternal cousin had cited some important work and apologized for his unavailability. It was strange since Arjuna couldn’t fathom what could be more important than this. But Krishna had always been this way, and he figured that his best friend would turn up when the time was right.

Leaving the large chambers reserved for security considerations, he walked past his bedroom and onto the small courtyard that opened at his balcony door. Subhadra had personally decorated it with exotic flowers brought from foreign lands that seemed to glow strangely in the translucent beauty of the moon. This will remind you of me, she had said and indeed as the intoxicating fragrance of the nearby chrysanthemums filled his nostrils, his mind shifted to his favourite wife who never ceased to amaze him despite so many years of marriage. He wished she was here but Subhadra had gone to visit her brothers at Dwarka, taking with her their daughter-in-law Uttara and grandson Parikshit. Abhimanyu had opted to stay behind to help with organising tomorrow's journey and also to be present at Hastinapura for the discussion regarding the impending war threat.

His heart ached at the thought of his talented son who had changed considerably since the Kurukshetra War. The smiles that used to come so naturally, the face that always glowed with optimism and warmth, the eyes that sparkled like diamonds all had been lost to the madness of war and the abyss of despair. Now his son walked with a limp, his eyes cold and unfeeling, burning in a way he had only seen on men who had surrendered before him.

Defeated was the term he would use for his son and he didn't know how to bring that sweet boy back, the one who used to never leave his side when he visited Subhadra in Dwarka. Now, Abhimanyu seemed to avoid him completely, answering his questions with a cold, detached look assuring him with empty words that everything was fine. Except that it wasn't.

But he knew that it wasn't just Abhimanyu who had changed so drastically, indeed all his family and friends had transformed into people he didn't know and didn't like. No one was spared from the ravages of the war, whether they were on the winning or the losing side. Or maybe in the case of Mahabharata, there were no winners and losers after all.

As day dawned upon them he shrugged off his perturbation and accompanied his brothers to their chariot, commencing their long and arduous journey to Hastinapura. From the corner of his eyes he saw Abhimanyu riding ahead with the Army chief, on the alert for anything out of the ordinary. He could hear the soft chirping of the sparrows and the lipping and gurgling of the pellucid waters of the stream flowing nearby.

It felt so unreal, all the time that had passed since the battle had ended. It felt as if this was all but a carefully crafted dream of a master illusionist and any second he would wake up to the clangor of battle conches and the shrill clashing of swords. Kurukshetra, that barren land now soaked with sweat and blood, would await him and his Gandiva, to be aimed at men who he had once considered his family.

And he would kill and kill and kill and kill until the Sun God would bid them adieu only to return the next morning heralding another day of gruesome bloodshed.

Arjuna sighed and caressed his divine bow, wanting to feel something other than the numbness that had haunted him since the declaration of Mahabharata all those months ago.

"Nakula, why is your dhoti so dirty?", Bheema asked.

"Oh, there's this new horse that Prakjit brought from the north, a white stallion that went ballistic before we were to start the journey. It took a long time to calm it down and even then it continued to kick its feet at anyone who approached it. I had to sit with it for two hours before I could get it to journey with us.", Nakula answered, sounding tired. Bheema nodded at him and turned his gaze westwards but Arjuna noticed beneath his calm eyes, the question that he had not asked, the one he wanted to ask.

_Nakula, YOUR dhoti is dirty. You, who used to spend hours looking the part of a prince even when we lived in the forest, you who used to berate the servants when they forgot to clean a mere inch of dirt, you who used to shout at us when we entered our childhood cottage without washing up, why do you not care that your dhoti is dirty? Why didn't you change it? What the hell is wrong with you?_

But Bheema didn't ask those questions to Nakula for the same reason Arjuna didn't ask Abhimanyu. They were both afraid of the answer.

He was glad that his father had listened to his request and not showered rain upon them. The weather was cool and pleasant, reminding him of the Himalayas where he had undertaken a grueling penance to obtain the Pashupat. He wanted to go back there, the mountains with their cool winds, rocky terrain and unyielding wildlife. That was his problem, he couldn't stay at one place for a long time.

But this wasn't the only reason why he wanted to escape to the mountains. It was more because he couldn't bear to see all the dead faces around him, with their plastic smiles that even they knew didn't fool anyone. He was a stranger to his family, and they were to him.

Hearing the koyals singing their sweet melody from atop a vakula tree, Arjuna thought about his childhood spent in the forest and the subsequent exile. He wondered, though he would never dare admit it to anyone, if it would have been better if they had stayed in the forest. Sure his honor would have been lost but at least his son, his brothers, his loved ones would have been whole.

His throat strangled at the memory of his son lying in the medical tent, broken and bleeding, his arms and legs covered in bandages. He had fallen to the floor and Sahadeva had rushed to him, assuring him that his son would live and he, unable to speak words of gratitude, had held his hand as his eyes never left Abhimanyu’s still form. Then it all hit him in one single blow- rage, confusion, shock, sorrow and he could hardly breathe as the crushing weight of what had happened knocked him down again. He cried then, tears streaming down his face as the pain of a thousand poisoned arrows flooded his system.

All his pride, his vanity, his ego abandoned him in that moment, leaving him empty and he just sat there howling and grieving as others came in, some crying with him, others standing frozen not knowing what else to do. All of them were there except Krishna, who had slipped away at some time. Was it too hard for him to see Abhimanyu, his beloved nephew, in such a state? Or was it something else?

He had cradled his son's face in his hands as his other brothers had begged forgiveness, recounting all that had happened. Sorrow gave way to shock when Yudhisthira told him that it was his bitterest foe, Vasusena Karna, who had defied Duryodhana and brought Abhimanyu here. He had even stayed behind and held Abhimanyu as if he was his own child, calming him down so Vibodh and the others could operate upon him.

Arjuna could hardly believe it. Karna? The man who had all but bartered his righteousness for a golden crown, prostrating himself in pathetic servitude at his cousin's feet, supporting all his evil machinations, that man had saved his child? He was now indebted to the man who took an oath to destroy him?

_Where is he_ , he remembered asking. Krishna entered the tent behind them, stating that Karna had left and that the War was most likely over, for after Karna’s forsaking, Duryodhana would not continue the war. His brothers had remained respectfully skeptical until the royal messenger from the Kaurava camp arrived the next day, confirming Krishna’s prediction. While his brothers exchanged open mouthed stares, Arjuna glanced at Krishna who had an indecipherable look on his face as he stared intensely at the message that he had taken off Bheema’s hands. He sighed deeply then nodded at Yudhisthira as a signal to inform the rest of their allies about this new development.

And so King Dhritrashtra arrived at Kurukshetra formally, handing over the reins of Indraprastha which had been stolen away from them in that wretched dice game all those years ago. Duryodhana was not present, neither was Dushasan, Guru Drona, Ashwahtthama, Kripacharya or anyone who had sided with the Kauravas. Hours later, Dhristyadhuma informed them that Karna had relinquished the throne of Anga and left Kurukshetra. Duryodhana, who had been utterly and irreparably broken, hadn't left his chambers no matter how much King Dhritrashtra or his brothers begged him to and the rest of the warriors had taken refuge in their private tents some still reeling from shock, others from relief.

“Father, we will reach Hastinapur by evening. We still have 12 yojanas to cover”, Abhimanyu informed him and then went straight ahead to where he was originally riding alongside the deputy army chief.

Vasusen Karna. It was because of him that his child was still alive. He still couldn't believe it though. There very few people he hated in life, As Yudhisthira always told them it was futile to hold grudges, all it did was give one further pain and sorrow but that man………..Arjuna had hated him with an intensity that shocked even himself. He didn’t even loathe Duryodhana as much as he loathed him, despite everything Duryodhana was still his cousin, no matter what he said.

It baffled him how deep his resentment of Karna ran . Most people thought it was because he was his only true competition to the title of the World’s greatest Archer, but that was not it. The man was uniquely gifted, even Arjuna couldn’t deny it and he never had. Was it because he was a low caste, downtrodden Suta who had no business picking up weapons that he would never be worthy of? But no, that was not it either. It could be because of his actions at the royal Assembly when he had insulted Draupadi and questioned her chastity, Draupadi who was as pure as the holy waters of Ganga in which he offered arghya everyday without fail. But no, he had hated him before that wretched incident, even before Varanavat where Duryodhana had planned to burn them to cinders, in order to destroy all the obstacles in his path to the throne of Hastinapura.

_Why then? Why did he hate him so much?_

Arjuna shook his head, ridding himself of these speculations as his mind returned to the task at hand. In a few hours they would reach Hastinapur and he found himself shuddering at the thought of returning to the Great Sabha where they had been so unjustly degraded at the hands of their cousins. But his distress was nothing compared to Draupadi who had suffered the worst humiliation, paying the ultimate price of Yudhistra’s vow to always adhere to dharma and the rest of the Pandavas to bless him with their blind faith. She had never forgiven them, and he doubted she ever would.

Their contingent crossed the gates to the city, and the citizens showered flowers upon them, though Arjuna could see they were doing it only because they were ordered to do so. The fog of death and destruction had not lifted from Aryavarta, let alone Hastinapura where it had all begun. He could feel the tension in the air and the suspicion and disfavor etched upon the faces of the men and women who silently watched them journey towards the royal palace out of their balconies. Arjuna hadn’t encountered even a single smile.

As they descended the chariots, the royal ladies performed the customary aarti and from there they were greeted by King Dhritarashtra, Prime Minister Vidura and other noted dignitaries of the royal Sabha. Yudhisthira fell down at their uncle’s feet as the rest of them followed suit and King Dhritrashtra blessed them, with infinite weariness, a long and prosperous life. Even Yudhisthira was shocked at his words considering they were responsible for the deaths of so many of his children. Had he really forgiven them so easily. Or maybe, trammeled by another war and outplayed by destiny, he was simply treating them like any other ally. Dhritarashtra greeted their mother and Draupadi and Arjuna strained to hear the slightest note of resentment in their voice but found none of it. King Dhritrashtra looked weary and haggard, and Arjuna wondered how he had been doing in the last year.

Dhritarashtra’s cherished charioteer Sanjaya guided them to their seats in the grand hall, and the Pandavas noted the hushed silence that followed their arrival. A feeling of discouragement swept Arjuna when he saw the faces of his fellow kings, many of which he didn’t recognize from kingdoms whose rulers had been killed at the hands of the Pandavas and their allies. Some smiled at them, others glared. Some had fought alongside them while the rest had joined their bitterest enemies. It shouldn’t really matter since alliances were always changing in Aryavarta and betrayals were common, especially before and after wars. But then again, Mahabharata had been unlike any other war.

The sabha was lined with courtesans, noblemen and priests whose hushed conversations filled the awkward silence that rested between the Kings and Princes present in the hall. Fortunately, they were graced with the company of Prince Dhristadyumna who had arrived before them and now sat conversing with Bhima and Yudhisthira. He could tell that none of them were really into it, but they were desperate to say something to avoid the painful silence that brought with it memories they wished to forget. Draupadi who had been sitting behind them in the veiled quarters allocated for royal women smiled widely at him and her brother smiled back. Arjuna didn’t remember the last time he had seen her do that.

“Father?”

Arjuna turned towards Abhimanyu, who was gesturing to the goblets of guava juice being served by a maidservant. Shaking his head at her, he looked at his son who was staring impassively ahead of him, refusing to participate in the conversation. He had responded to Dhristadyumna’s inquiries curtly, his voice cool like ice, and then taken to sitting stiffly in his seat without another word. He could tell that Dhristadyumna was upset, but the Upandavas had intervened and the conversation began to flow freely. Or as free as it could be with all the glances thrown their way. It was as if the whole courtroom was submerged in universal confusion and no one had the slightest clue on what they were supposed to do.

He scanned the room and stopped when his gaze fell on the Kaurava section. What was once always occupied with the loud and uninhibited hundred sons of King Dhritarashtra now lay empty except for a measly seven who had managed to survive. He noticed Duryodhana’s absence but Dushasana was there and he was talking seriously to the remaining five. The thrones had been arranged into five rows of ten each and shockingly Dushasana and the others had chosen to sit in the last row. It was as if they were trying to hide their existence, their guilt enforcing them to believe that they had no business being alive when the rest of their brothers were no more.

He wanted…………...nearly wished that Duryodhana was here. With his distinguishing dynamism and spirited presence he could perhaps jolt them back to reality so Arjuna could stop constantly pondering over how broken their family was. He couldn't believe it but his heart ached for just one glance of his cousin, hoping that the news of his failing health were simply rumors and no more. Yes, he was actually worried for the same cousin who Arjuna had always proclaimed with pride, was destined to be killed by Bhima. Maybe he was going insane with every passing day.

The royal drums and trumpets announced the entry of King Dhritarashtra, followed by Chief Minister Vidura and Guru Drona. Lakshman Kumar carefully guided his grandfather to the throne, watchful of his age and squeezed his arm gently before moving to his seat. He could see in the way Dhritarashtra had responded to Lakshman’s touch, the way Vidura and the rest of the ministers had stared at him when he left and the way that Dushasan had smiled at him that the kid had earned respect in all their eyes and was an important member of the royal court. Arjuna almost didn’t recognize him . He had the same haunted look on his face much like Abhimanyu but there was also a profound wisdom there that didn’t sit with his age. When he passed by their seats he bowed to them.

“It is an honor to see my uncles here.”, Lakshman Kumar said and gave them a sad smile. He was certainly a handsome young man with dark, piercing eyes and aristocratic features, a generous gift from his father. But Arjuna sensed a deep bitterness in him and for some reason he was unsettled by this boy and the melancholy that surrounded his movements.

“It is an honor to return to this blessed kingdom. How are you, my child?” Yudhisthira asked and Arjuna was glad that Yudhisthira was the eldest because he sure as hell wouldn’t have known how to respond.

“I am fine, Uncle. And I pray that so are all of you. I wish the circumstances that we have met in were different but I guess nothing brings this family together like war.

He laughed at Yudhisthira’s frown and shrugged. “I didn’t think you would come but I am glad you did.”

“How’s your father doing?” Bhima interrupted suddenly, his face ashen.

Lakshman's eyes flashed with pain for a millisecond before he sighed and shook his head. “Not very good. We are all very worried.”

Arjuna had absolutely no idea why that single piece of information caused him so much pain. He should have been happy…...or relieved. Lakshman Kumar greeted their brother in law Dhristadyumna with excessive politeness and then excused himself.

The meeting began solemnly with Chief Minister Vidura showering gratitude upon the Kings and Princes who had chosen to support Hastinapura. Vidura was generally a straight shooter regarding these things, but surprisingly he took his own sweet time to individually thank each King present. Maybe the war had changed him. Or maybe he knew how dire the situation was and wanted to gratify the ones who had chosen to fight alongside Hastinapura. Their enemies led chiefly by Somadhi of Magadh were planning to siege the kingdom, and his proposal had the support of numerous kingdoms that were itching to see the downfall of Hastinapura. And why not, they had lost their kings, soldiers, entire armies in the Mahabharata then why should Hastinapura, where it all began, remain standing strong as ever when the rest of the Aryavarta was slowly disintegrating to pieces.

Technically Hastinapur wasn’t doing much better either, it's just that the kingdom had slightly more wealth than the others and so there was at least this much assurance that its citizens wouldn’t die of hunger. On the security front however Hastinapura was woefully underprepared with most of its soldiers and war generals dead. Arjuna had snatched away the city’s greatest champion Pitamah Bhishma for the cause of dharma, and now there was no one left to fill that gap. King Dhritarashtra was too old, Duryodhana was missing, and the Kauravas were dead (save for six). Even Guru Drona seemed to have shrunken, his eyes did not have the usual light, and he seemed resigned.

Somadhi unlike his father was not favourable to the Pandavas either but right now his wrath was directed at the Kauravas alone. For long, Magadha had competed with Hastinapura but had never been able to match its glory with Pitamah Bhishma standing as a wall against anyone who so much as dared to dream of vanquishing Hastinapura. But now that the wall was broken. Somadhi may not be much of a warrior but he was a strategist and his ambition knew no bounds. And he wasn’t alone. He had the backing of several powerful kingdoms.

Arjuna noticed in the midst of Vidura’s speech that a royal servant had entered and whispered something to King Dhritrashtra. Nodding, the king raised a frail hand and Vidura stopped immediately. Dhritrashtra talked to Sanjaya, then leaned back in his throne. The royal instruments began to be played again, a signal that another delegation had arrived. Arjuna scanned the courtroom to determine the missing king then gave up when he realized that all the centuries old alliances had more or less dissolved in the aftermath of Mahabharata and it would be futile to try to guess the newcomer. Fortunately, the royal courtier cleared all confusion when he shouted at the top of his lungs that the king of Uttar Panchala would be entering the courtroom soon.

“I thought Ashwatthama was already here somewhere. He is just coming in?” Nakula said.

“I didn’t see him so I assumed he was probably with Duryodhana. They are such good friends.” Sahadeva replied.

“Indeed. It is strange that he chose to stay in Panchala when he is needed here now more than ever.” Bhima said.

Arjuna didn’t reply. He was busy staring at his hardened teacher and he was sure he had seen something on his face when Aswatthamma’s name had been declared. Desperation? Anger? Eagerness? Hope? Something was amiss here.

There was some confusion at the dais and the courtier shouted at his subordinate then hurried back. Clearing his voice, he proclaimed that the King of Dwarka was accompanying the Panchala ruler and they would be arriving together along with a special guest.

“What?”, Bhima exclaimed. “Krishna is coming with Ashwatthama?”

Arjuna nodded mutely, too stunned to say a word. While he knew that Ashwatthama had always been courteous with Krishna despite what Duryodhana said, he didn't think that they knew each other very well. And he wasn’t the only one who was surprised. Judging by the murmurs that had broken across the hall he could see that others were just as baffled as he was.

“Do you know anything about this, Arjuna?” Yudhisthira asked.

‘Yeah….and what does he mean by special guest?” Nakula wondered.

Arjuna opened his mouth to speak but froze when the new party entered the hall amidst a thunderous chorus of beats and chants and Arjuna was sure that he saw every jaw in the hall drop when they saw exactly who the special guest was.

“Impossible.” Sahadeva mumbled.

“No way!!”, Nakula shook his head in disbelief.

“Am I dreaming?” Bhima wondered aloud.

Arjuna shook his head. No, none of them were.

It really was him.

_Vasusena Karna._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are always appreciated :)


	7. Enemy

If Krishna had wanted to have the most outrageous, ridiculous and unbelievable entrance in the history of mankind he had certainly accomplished that goal. Was this some kind of joke? Were they supposed to stand up and clap at his ingenuity? Or maybe they could garland him and declare him the court jester?

And worst of all, why the hell was he with _HIM_? The same man who had sworn to kill Arjuna for Duryodhana. The same man who had unjustly declared Draupadi a whore. The same man who had let Shakuni’s evil scheme unfold in Varnavat. The same man who hated them with a passion that rivalled the Kauravas.

Arjuna exhaled sharply, anger flooding his senses at the sight of his bitterest, most hated foe in the company of his best friend. Even if the Mahabharata was over, it upset him that he had not made Karna pay for his sins. He hadn’t broken his pride, shattered his arrogance and butchered his ego. He hadn’t wiped away the smugness that lined his features, the conceit that curled his lips in a cruel, mocking smile that was always directed at him and his brothers. He hadn’t defeated and killed that proud man, proving once and for all that Arjuna was better than him in every aspect.

But what hurt Arjuna more was the fact that Krishna had accompanied Karna. He curled his fingers into fists, wanting to smash them against the wall to vent out his frustration at the absurd scene playing out in front of him. Karna always wanted to take things that rightfully belonged to him. First, he had gatecrashed the royal tournament and insulted him and his teacher, declaring with intolerable haughtiness that he was the better archer. Then he had the audacity to compete for Draupadi, the Princess of Panchala’s hand while in the midst of the most noble kings and warriors with good breeding and pure blood unlike him. And now this?

The three men made their way to seek blessings from Maharaj Dhritrashtra as the other kings gradually recovered from their shock. The sabha turned from a serious, sombre event to a gaggle of loud, boisterous voices that questioned the unexpected turn of events. Krishna turned to the crowd while his two companions seated themselves and flashed his characteristic, charismatic smile that did little to dispel the shock and confusion that had taken over the court.

“What is he doing with that Sutaputra?” Bhima demanded.

“Beats me. When has anything Krishna ever done made sense? But the bigger question is, how did Krishna find him? Didn’t he disappear after the War?” Sahadeva bombarded them with one question after another.

“Right. No one knew where he was. No one could find him.” Dhristadyumna added.

Arjuna shot a sidelong glance at his son and was surprised. Abhimanyu was nervously twisting his fingers and staring at Krishna as he sought to pacify the kings present in their midst. _No wait, he wasn’t looking at his uncle, he was staring at……...Karna?_

“This is completely unacceptable, Vasudev Krishna. What exactly is that man doing here?” Madranaresh Shalya yelled out, his voice cutting through the pandemonium and clearing the path for a rational discussion.

“My dear King Shalya, I find it hard to believe that you do not remember Radheya. He isn’t the kind of person you would forget.” Krishna replied, staring intently at him.

“Of course, I know who he is! But what is he doing here?”

Krishna gave him an incredulous look. “Surely at a time when Hastinapura and its allies lie distressed at the thought of war, one must be busy drawing in the bravest warriors on their side to secure chances of victory. You are witness to Karna’s strength and valour, having seen it through your own eyes, and yet you still question his presence here.”

“This man has lost the right to call himself a warrior. He has no understanding of duty and honour.” Vinda, the King of Avanti declared. His words were met with applause as an agreement to what had been said.

“In the darkness of night, one may even mistake a cat for a lion but when dawn breaks the true nature of the animal is revealed to all. Similarly, this man’s truth was unveiled when he abandoned the Kauravas.” Sudakshina, the ruler of Kambojas sneered, his voice icy cold, and sprinkled with malice.

“He is a deplorable suta. He is fit to clean our chariots but not worthy of driving them and certainly not worthy of fighting alongside all the esteemed Kshatriya warriors present in this assembly.” King Brihadbala, hailing from the Ikshvaku dynasty, argued, having already forgotten the teachings of his venerable ancestor, Lord Rama.

“Take caution, King of Kosala.”, Ashwathamma warned, his face livid and fists clenched menacingly. Arjuna sucked in a breath. Ashwathamma had a cool temperament, in fact he had hardly ever seen the man angry or agitated. But everyone knew that the friendship between his guru’s son and Karna was stronger than steel and deeper than the ocean. There was no way Ashwathamma would let anyone denigrate his friend like that.

“Or what Dronaputra? Do you deny that your friend betrayed the house of Kurus?” Anuvinda, the other ruler of Avanti inquired in a tone that confirmed his absolute hatred of Karna.

“That is not for you to decide. It would come as a surprise to you but he is here at the invitation of King Dhritarashtra.” Ashwathamma replied smugly.

Yet again the hall burst out in uproarious exchange at the King’s decision. Even Arjuna was confused at this. Had King Dhritrashtra forgotten that it was because of Karna that the war had been abandoned? Or was he grateful that Karna’s shocking intervention had managed to save seven sons out of the hundred who had participated. Arjuna noticed that the six Kauravas were equally dumbfounded at Ashwatthama's assertion. It was obvious that their father had not consulted with them on this.

“Maharaja, what game are you playing here?” King Sudakshina questioned, barely hiding his displeasure.

“He is playing the game of victory.” Krishna answered for the Kaurava patriarch.

“You want us to abandon our principles for a chance at victory? Look around you. The greatest Kshatriyas, from across Bharatvarsh, are here to support Hastinapur and yet you choose to place your faith in that Suta?” Vinda’s voice was dripping with such acrid venom that if the Trigartas were here, they too would be stunned.

“And pray tell, where did your Kshatriya strength disappear when Karna conquered Avanti during his conquest?” Ashwathamma challenged, eliciting a roaring laugh from the crowd.

As the duel of words continued, Arjuna turned his attention to Karna, intrigued by his eerie calmness, as he silently watched his character being butchered over by men who could never equal him in battle. Arjuna couldn’t help but wonder why he was just sitting there, not offering a single word in his defence. There had been not one change of expression in his dark, melancholic face, it was as if he really didn’t care anymore which was strange because the Karna he remembered wouldn’t have let this pass.

“Have you invited us here to be insulted, King Dhritrashtra?” Sudakshina asked in annoyance. Ashwathamma opened his mouth to retort but Karna snaked his fingers around his wrists, his eeyorish eyes guarded in concern and Arjuna understood that he did not want Aswathamma to make enemies of allies for his sake.

“Your being insulted is a result of your own words, King. Do not blame the Maharaja for this.”, Krishna said, and this time the amusement was gone from his face as he stared stonily at Sudakshina. Everyone stiffened at his tone that perfectly elucidated his seriousness and his commitment to having Karna on their side. When Krishna lost his good humour, that was when things turned serious..

“Maharathi Karna is here on my request. I have but the highest regard for him and I am certain that he will be a valuable ally in the upcoming war. Those who doubt my words may jog their memories of Mahabharata. To question him is to question me.”

Arjuna’s jaw dropped at this. He didn’t think he would be able to describe what he was feeling in that moment, but it hurt him somewhere in his chest. It hurt terribly.

Krishna’s confidence in Karna left everyone bewildered, but the Kings who were very deeply devoted to him nodded faithfully, convinced of Krishna’s wisdom. Then there were others who were not so approving of Krishna, who saw him more as a trickster than the profoundly wise statesman he was. They sat in silent protest, eyes conveying that they did not accept this agreement at all. Tension and tempers were running high and Arjuna wondered whether Krishna’s preposterous endorsement of Karna would leave them without the support of several other kingdoms when they were already in a disadvantageous position.

The meeting was concluded with Chief Minister Vidura declaring that the discussion be continued tomorrow, after the pooja that had been arranged in honor of Lord Shiva to seek his blessings for the upcoming war. The kings and princes dispersed, confused and unhappy but also far too tired from their journeys to care at the moment. Arjuna was sure that tomorrow things would get even more heated when the other rulers would have rested and would not be so unprepared as they are today.

The Pandavas had their lunch in silence, each lost in their own thoughts at the strange sight that they had been witness to. Krishna with Karna? Arjuna had seen them interact only a handful of times and though he knew that both men were deeply respectful and full of admiration whenever they met each other, he had never known they were friends.

He jogged his memories, wondering if he had missed anything, but nothing came to mind. The last year had been so painful and wearisome and besides Arjuna had been far too invested in damage control following the conclusion of Mahabharata to notice anything. It had taken him months to figure out that his brothers were a complete wreck, Abhimanyu had changed from a warm, friendly boy to a lugubrious recluse, and he himself had fallen into a squall of hopelessness and misery.

“So….about what happened today…” Nakula started but obviously wasn’t sure what to say.

Arjuna squeezed his eyes tightly shut, anger coursing through his body. He couldn’t believe that Krishna would do such a thing. Despite what Karna had done to them, he had chosen to support him? Karna was his biggest enemy! Why would Krishna help him?

“How could he betray us like that? That too for that Sutaputra!” Bhima bellowed. He was just as angry as Arjuna was and for some reason it made him feel a little better.

“Don’t distress, Mother.” Yudhistira said. Kunti was as pale as the moon, her breaths coming out tight and hard and she looked deeply agitated. Draupadi offered her a glass of water and their mother gulped it down quickly, rocking slightly in her chair, eyes darting everywhere but at them.

“Mother, are you alright? Forgive me for yelling.” Bhima's voice was soft and apologetic. Kunti nodded and offered him a small smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“This is so bizarre!” Nakul exclaimed.

“There must be a reason for this.” Sahadeva mumbled to him.

“As always you are right, cousin.”

Krishna stood at the threshold of the living room, eyeing them all warily. His look was deeper and more complex than Arjuna had seen at the royal sabha and he had no idea what to make of it. Krishna moved forward to greet his aunt and though his words were dipped in the sweetest honey, Arjuna felt something different in the way his eyes flickered over Kunti. Abhimanyu and the Upandavas rushed to greet their uncle, but sensing the underlying tension in the room they kept their courtesies brief and retired to their seats, watching the elders closely.

“Krishna, what is the meaning of all this?” Bhima was the first one to break the silence.

Krishna smiled in his mysterious way and opened his arms in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“You know exactly what we are talking about.” Bhima countered, looking miffed. “What is that charioteer’s son doing here? And why does he have your vote of confidence?”

“Do I need to repeat the arguments I had presented just a few hours ago?”

“Karna is our enemy. Have you forgotten his misdeeds?” Nakula questioned, outraged.

“Exactly! That rascal has supported every evil plan of Duryodhana! It was because of him, on the basis of his strength, that Duryodhana challenged us in the first place!”

“Yes, I am aware of that.” Krishna’s voice was cool as satin when he addressed Bhima, which further fuelled his anger.

“That scoundrel has always insulted us whenever possible! From that championship tournament all those years ago to Draupadi’s” Bhima stopped, eyes lowered in shame and regret “to Draupadi’s vastraharan. At every turn, he has mocked us and laughed at us, chest puffed with hubris as if he was the emperor of Bharatvarsh and not some degenerate suta!”

“He encouraged the Kauravas’ ambition that resulted in the Mahabharata. He killed so many of our friends, supporters and soldiers!” Nakul added in a vituperative tone. “And yet you supported him today! Why are you so hellbent on his presence?”

“My dear Nakula, Vasusena is a formidable warrior. I would very much like it if he fights from our side. “ Krishna’s smile turned wicked. “His prowess in the art of warfare is exceptional despite him being the son of a lowly Suta.”

Arjuna was stunned, as was everyone else in the room. He had never, not once seen Krishna dismiss Karna as a charioteer’s son, in fact he had always spoken highly of his righteous disposition and cautioned them regarding his combat proficiency during the Mahabharata War. Bhima was so shocked he could hardly speak. Beside him, Kunti stared at Krishna, a wretched torment in her eyes.

“What exactly are you trying to do, Krishna?” Yudhisthira asked, after a while.

“Oh it's very simple. We have to win this war if we do not want Hastrinapura to fall in the hands of enemies. And to ensure that we need the best of warriors on our side.”

“We don’t require him.” Arjuna gritted his teeth, respectful of Krishna but nevertheless frustrated at his best friend’s explanations that did not feel sincere to him. Something was going on here. He could tell.

“Have you lost faith in me, Parth?”

“Of course not! I just don't understand why we need him! I can single-handedly destroy our enemies.”

“This is not just about you, Arjuna. This war encapsulates several kingdoms, Hastinapur being the most prominent and remember that Karna had diligently served Hastinapur for several years, earning both wealth and territory in his multiple conquests. King Dhritarashtra has himself invited him here, fully aware of the consequences, then how can any of us object? Are you willing to stand against your uncle?”

“It’s not that!” Arjuna snapped. Just talking about Karna was enough to make his blood boil. Hate was too small of a word to describe what he felt about his biggest enemy. Beyond hate, beyond loathing, it was a dark, deadly, mephitic poison that ran in his veins and would fade away only when he would have rewarded that fraudster with the shame of defeat.

“Do you trust me?” Krishna questioned in a soft whisper.

Arjuna exhaled sharply. “I do but-”

“Have the same faith in me that you showed during the Mahabharat war.”

Arjuna sighed and stared at Krishna, trying to understand what was going on beneath his his tranquil exterior.

“I would rather die than fight alongside that scoundrel” Bhima declared, ignoring everything that Krishna had said and crossed his arms in defiance.

Krishna shook his head gently at them. “Oh Bhima! I brought him here as a reinforcement.. Surely you heard Vidura in the assembly today. The situation is grim. Magadha is even more powerful than before and this time there is no pretence of friendship left to salvage the situation. Somadahi is itching for war because he knows that our numbers are significantly lesser. As for Karna” Krishna waved his hand. “Do not fret over his presence here, cousin, he will leave when all this is over.”

“What?” Bhima exclaimed, briefly forgetting his anger. Arjuna sat up straighter in his seat, confused at his best friend’s remarks.

“Oh yes...him and I..we have an agreement. He stays here and fights the war for us and then he leaves….that is if he doesn’t die in the battlefield. Why else would I stand by him? It’s only at King Dhritarashtra's request and Karna’s acceptance of this proposal that I agreed to champion him today in the sabha.”

“But why…...why would he do this? What does he have to gain?” Sahadeva asked bewildered.

“He has his reasons.” Krishna answered nonchalantly. “But don’t worry he will not get any land, title or wealth. And thankfully this time around Duryodhana wouldn’t repeat his foolish mistake.”

“What mistake?” Arjuna questioned. Krishna turned to him and Arjuna shuddered at the fulminating look on his face.

“Handing the reins of Anga to an ignoble, destitute and unworthy sutaputra.”

The room became colder with each syllable as a wave of shock swept them all away. There was a stillness in the air at the antipathy in Krishna’s voice, so uncharacteristic of the celebrated statesman. Arjuna had been thinking of ways to convince his best friend that Karna was just like the Kauravas and simply could not be trusted but it felt like no one harboured a deeper animosity for Karna at this moment than the man who had so passionately defended him a mere fours ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I dedicate this chapter to Sushant Singh Rajput. Not that it matters now but still. He was one of my favorite actors and I cannot believe that he chose to leave us like that. Having suffered through depression myself, I can understand what kind of thoughts he must have been dealing with every day and I wish he had sought help before taking such a drastic measure. 
> 
> May he continue to live through his work in the hearts of men and women who admire him. May his story that begins in a small town in Bihar and ends in him becoming an accomplished and self-made star serve as an inspiration to the future generations. And may he be blessed with the peace that he didn't get in this world. You may be gone Sushant, but you will not be forgotten. 
> 
> I hope you all liked 'Enemy'. Do leave a comment and let me know what you guys think of this chapter. Bye for now.


	8. Son

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gotta admit this is not my finest work. I am not happy with it but honestly my mind is coming up empty. Anyways, please leave a comment to let me know what you think.

Karna knew something was wrong. He could see it in the way Bhavin had his head bowed and was refusing to meet his eyes. Karna had been waiting for close to two hours to be shown the guest room where he would be staying but one look at the head of royal servants and he just knew. Still, he waited for Bhavin to say it as a confirmation. He gritted his teeth and felt hot pain sear his heart because even though he knew he deserved this, he hadn’t expected it to come from her. 

Maybe Uncle Shakuni or Dushasana, but certainly not Mata Gandhari. 

He nodded at Bhavin, patted his arm and then left without a word. In that moment, he felt more sorry for Bhavin than he felt for himself. Poor man couldn’t even bring himself to say it. 

Bowing in the direction of the Ganesha Temple, he took a detour, hoping that the long walk would ease his nerves as he quietly made his way to his childhood home. Yes, where else could he go now. 

Forgive me Maharathi Karna but…...Mata Gandhari…..she ordered me to inform you that you are……...not welcome to stay inside the palace grounds.

By then Karna was certain that Bhavin would break down, so he quietened him halfheartedly and ignored the hollow, empty feeling in his chest. He could comprehend Mata Gandhari’s consternation at having him here and decided not to torment her; he left without a word, even though this was a gross insult on their part to act this way to a guest. He wondered if King Dhritarshtra knew about this, considering he had almost begged for his assistance in his letters. 

But Karna was so used to being insulted that it didn’t sting him that much. Maybe that’s why he had not lost his temper in the royal sabha when every facet of his being was derided by the same men who he had vanquished in his world conquests. He could feel the hatred pouring off them in waves, their revulsion at his audacity to come back to Hastinapur after what he had done a year ago. Some of them were justified in their anger, even Karna had to agree to that, but most of the kings had used this opportunity to malign him for no other reason but the fact that he was a lowborn and they hated him for it. He knew that according to Kshatriya Dharma victory in battle was quintessential to gain respect and glory in the eyes of other warriors and defeat was the ultimate damnation. But to be subjugated by someone who was undeserving of even holding a weapon would surely be an even bigger disgrace. No wonder they hated him. He reminded them of their own incompetence. 

He walked away from the shining lights of the city and deeper into the lanes of thatched huts that all looked the same. He had entered the part that was housed by the less fortunate like him and he gazed around wistfully, remembering the childhood he had spent here. His father had their house constructed some feet away from the houses of the other charioteers and closer to the forests so that Karna could practice his archery without any disturbance. As he moved closer to his childhood home he tried to ignore the pang of hurt at the sight of several widows, washing utensils near the local pond, taking out their frustration at destiny’s lack of compassion on the already bent utensils. His heart sank when he saw old, wearied parents sitting close together lamenting their pitiful existence and wondering why they were alive when their sons weren't. Children ran amuck, unruly and wild, having no one to teach them discipline, no one to hold them and guide them for their lives ahead. The gut wrenching pain of loss was so apparent that Karna could hardly breathe and he quickened his pace, cursing himself for taking the longer route.

He had no idea how to describe the feeling in his chest when he finally reached his home. The sturdy residence stood proud and welcoming, having beaten both weather and time ,waiting for its masters to return. Karna entered his house tentatively, noticing the mouldy smell that seemed to permeate through the walls. His father had insisted that he would live here despite his repeated requests to join him in Anga. He even refused to stay at the palace that Duryodhana had constructed for him to live in when Karna visited Hastinapura. It was only when his health began to deteriorate did he allow himself to be dragged out of his ancestral home. But Karna could understand. There was something truly sacred about this place. It was their home.

Oh! And the palace that had been constructed in his honor now lay in ruins, incurring the wrath of Duryodhana who had torn down the place with his bare hands. He had destroyed every single reminder of their friendship, chucking them into the fire that didn't possess even a tenth of his rage.

Karna was very sad to see the inside of the house that had insects roaming freely on the floor, broken pots tossed to the side and cheap, wooden furniture having succumbed to the overwhelming perseverance of termites. The windows were broken, and the kitchen was flourishing under the hegemony of cockroaches and rats. Karna sighed. It was going to be a long night. 

After carrying earthen pots full of water back and forth, he kneeled down and got to work. The insects fought back bravely but finally capitulated to the herbal paste that he had made from the plants and roots he found in the forest. His mother used to prepare it often since their house was more susceptible to insects, being so close to the woodlands, and he thanked his lucky stars that he actually remembered the technique. He scrubbed on the floor hard, trying to get layers and layers of dust and patina out, ignoring his own blackened hands. After what felt like eternity he had managed to well somewhat clean up the living room to the point where he could at least spend the night there. He brought out an old mat from his mother’s room, then sighed when he noticed that the mice had chewed it out to the point of no return. And he hadn’t even begun to clean his and his parents' room. Dejected, he fell to the floor in exhaustion.

All he wanted to do was to go to sleep, but his stubborn mind refused to accommodate this one very simple request. He contemplated hitting himself in the head with a log of wood enough times to render him unconscious, but he figured that he might miss waking up in time for the puja where he would undoubtedly be humiliated yet again. And who doesn’t enjoy a bunch of people throwing insults at them left, right and centre?

Karna tried to relax himself but there were still a few ants crawling on the floor and his limbs felt as if they were filled with lead and his head was threatening to explode at having to labour for close to five hours after undertaking a grueling journey of eight whole days. Still, he closed his eyes and allowed darkness to engulf his mind. 

A few hours had passed before Karna awoke at the feeling of wetness at his feet. Annoyed,he sat up and rubbed his eyes, cursing the damn rats who had probably overturned one of the pots of water. But when his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Karna found that he was mistaken.

It wasn’t a rat but a person. And those were tears, not water.

“Lakshman!” Karna exclaimed, seeing the boy bent at his feet. Duryodhana’s son stared at him with eyes so distraught that Karna could hardly breathe. Instinctively he moved towards Lakshman, enveloping him in a hard hug and Lakshman all but dissolved into his arms. Karna ran a hand through Lakshman’s dark hair, the gesture so natural, and he just sat there holding him and wondering whether Duryodhana’s children had taken an oath to break his already broken heart every time they saw him. 

‘My child, what are you doing here?” Karna asked. It was still some time before sunrise. He rubbed his hand on Lakshman’s back in a vain effort to ease his pain. 

“I went to see you but….Bhavin told me what Grandmother had done so I spent the night looking for you. “ Lakshman managed to spit out as his breathing slowly returned to normal. “I am so sorry Uncle…....I had no idea.”

“What are you apologizing for, Lakshman? You, who has done no wrong.”

Lakshman wiped away his tears furiously and grabbed his arm. “You must come with me, Uncle Vasu. I’ll talk to Grandmother, she can’t do this. This is just……”

“She is in pain.” Karna said softly, cupping the boy’s face. 

“But Uncle Vasu, how can you stay here!”

Karna smiled then. “Like I did when I was a child. Well, you weren’t even born back then, but this is where I lived with my parents before I became a king.”

“But look at the state of this house! I can't let you stay here. No, you are coming with me!”

“Lakshman, do not worry over me. I am fine, here. This place is sacred to me, this is where I spent my childhood, where my mother cooked my favorite food and my father put me to sleep every night. This house may seem like nothing but a hovel to you but for me it is dearer than any palace. “

“At least let the servants clean it up before you stay here.” Lakshman picked up the torn mat from the floor and stared at him with sad eyes.

Karna sighed. “Lakshman, I will clean it up by myself. You mustn’t disturb yourself over my living conditions, you have far more important things to worry about.”

Lakshman looked like he wanted to argue but decided not too. “Lakshmana wrote to me about seeing you in Panchala but I didn’t believe it until I saw you enter the courtroom. How are you, uncle?”

“I am fine, son but are you alright?”

Lakshman shrugged and started to speak but Karna silenced him with one look. “Do not disrespect my intelligence by lying.”

Lakshman’s shoulders sagged, and he closed his eyes, looking deeply tired of the world. “How does it matter, Uncle Vasu? Everyone here is chasing their own personal glory and their fanatical dreams. Who cares what I think?”

“I do.” Karna said quietly. “I care.”

Lakshman stiffened in his arms and his face hardened. "I am sure you have your own troubles to worry about."

Karna noticed the bitterness in Lakshman’s voice and the way his lower lip trembled in silent rage. His hands were shaking, and he was making a deliberate effort to avoid his eyes.

"Lakshman?"

I am sorry I shouldn't have come here like this……….I don't know what I was thinking." Duryodhana's son shook his head and began to move away from him.

"Lakshman?"

"Obviously you were tired and in deep sleep……..I am such a fool….."

"Are you upset with me, child?" Karna asked, grabbing Lakshman's arm before he escaped from him.

Lakshman's face was blank. "Of course not, Uncle. Clearly, I misunderstood the depth of our relationship. Why must you bear the responsibility of my misguided expectations?" 

"My child, you cannot possibly think-"

"But I do, Uncle. I do. What else am I supposed to think?"

"Lakshman.."

"A part of me knows that after what happened…...after what you did…...it was wiser and safer to leave but there's another part that wishes….." Lakshman lowered his head and sighed heavily. 

"Do you know what thoughts ran in my mind when there was no news of you for months? Do you have even the slightest idea what hell we have been going through? Lakshmana wrote to me every week asking of your whereabouts and I had nothing to tell her. Every time I sat at the desk to write back, my hands trembled and I prayed that the lies I was telling her would turn out to be true. It was only after the letter from Dwarka where Shri Krishna hinted that he had located you, that I could breathe a sigh of relief! That my mind could finally stop haunting me of all the harrowing possibilities that have awakened within me since your disappearance. "

"Lakshman, listen-"

"It's alright, Uncle. You needn't offer any explanation. It is obvious where we feature in your list of priorities."

"Lakshman!" Karna exclaimed and pulled the boy roughly by his shoulder. 

"Don't you ever….ever insinuate that I do not care for you or your sister." 

"Uncle-"

"No!" He said firmly, feeling something heavy settle in his throat, weighing down on his words. "I have cradled you in my arms, helped you take your first steps and loved you like my own son. How can you say that I do not care?"

"Then why weren't you here?" Lakshman's tone was accusatory and truculent. "I don't care about what happened or what you did or whether it was right or wrong. I don't care that we lost the war and had to suffer through the shame of defeat. I don't care if this world was going to hell. All I know is that you were gone……….....and that I deserved a goodbye in the very least."

"You deserve far more than that. Oh Lakshman! I wanted to but…...things were so complicated………...believe me, not a day has passed when I have not thought of you. You are like a son to me, no different than Vrishasena. Please, forgive me."

Lakshman looked away, his eyes blurring with tears and conflict evident on his face.

Karna felt an aching pain deep in his heart. How was it that no matter what he did all he managed was to make the people he loved completely miserable? Why was it that all his decisions ultimately were determined by fate and not him. He had no control over anything, it seemed. Nor any power to make things right. No matter what he did, eventually destiny always got the better of him. 

"Lakshman I can handle all the contempt that the world has for me but I cannot bear hatred from someone I hold so dear." Karna said, his voice weak and watery.

Lakshman's head snapped up and he shook his head furiously. "No…..no…..Uncle that's not …….I don't hate you! That's preposterous! It’s just………." Lakshman ran a hand through his hair and chuckled bitterly. " I was hurt and……..scared. And you weren't here."

Karna wrapped his arms around Lakshman, who let out a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a sob. "I missed you, Uncle Vasu."

"I missed you too, kid. So much." He mumbled and heard Lakshman cry in response.

And he had. This kid was so special to him. In so many ways he reminded him of himself. How could anyone not dote on Lakshman Kumar? He may have been Durodhana’s son and a prince and yet there was never any pride that maligned his face nor any conceit that lured him towards pontifical patronizing. He was percipient, brave and kind and Karna could find no fault in Lakshman Kumar even if he tried.

He loved this kid so much. Having him here had lifted a burden off Karna's chest. He had blessed him with peace after an entire day of turbulence.

"How is it that both of Bhanumati's children are so generous with their love and their forgiveness?" He asked after a few moments when Lakshman had quietened down. 

"They aren't like that with everyone." Lakshman smiled at him. "Only with special people."

"That includes me?" Karna asked playfully, ruffling up the teenagers hair.

Lakshman laughed and nodded at him. "Absolutely."

"Then be honest with me, child. What is going on? I've noticed it in your manner. There is something that troubles you. I can see it."

"Oh it's nothing. I am just tired."

"It's not just that." Karna said resolutely and pointed at the dark circles under Lakshman’s amber eyes.

"Uncle-"

“Speak freely, Lakshman. When have you ever had to control your tongue around me? Have you lost your confidence in me?”

Lakshman struggled to respond. 

"Go ahead, Child." Karna nudged him.

“Uncle Vasu, I am no maharathi but I raged into battle at my father’s command. I thought I would be blessed to see the manifestation of Kshatriya dharma in the form of war, but all I saw was overwhelming death and destruction. I watched Pitamah Bhishma fall, he who had lived his entire life by the code of dharma. I saw my uncles being murdered in the most horrific manner possible, and scores and scores of our soldiers perishing under the might of divine astras that never should have been trusted in the hands of men. I have seen rules being bent to suit each side and no compassion, no mercy. Forgive me, but I do not understand the point of it all.”

The truth was, Karna didn’t understand the point either. Whatever fury had consumed him in the battle had deserted him the minute he had put his bow down to save Abhimanyu. Actually, his spirit had been broken long before when Kunti had told him the truth, but by then he knew that he had no power to change the tide of time. So he had given in to his rage, desperation or whatever the heck those dark, disturbing emotions were. What other choice did he have?

“They hate you for abandoning the battlefield but I wonder what would have happened if you hadn’t? How long would the carnage have lasted? How many more would have been killed?” Lakshmana shuddered, gazing off at the distance. 

"And for what?" He added in a softer tone.

“But Lakshman, after what I did……." 

"Yours was the only act of kindness I witnessed on the battlefield. It was jarring really…….it pulled me back to the reality of the sheer insanity that had swaddled all the warriors fighting in Kurukshetra . How can I hold that against you?"

"But…...but your father-" 

Lakshman looked at him incredulously. “I am not naive enough to believe that I can understand your motives Uncle Vasu but I am certain that they must have been deeply significant if you chose to take such a drastic step. As for my father I have seen in him torment that I wouldn’t wish upon my worst enemy but now that you are here you must allow me to feel relieved for I am certain that only you can save him from himself.” 

The conviction in Lakshman’s voice caused a spasm of anxiety to bubble in his chest. He wasn’t even sure how exactly he was going to approach Duryodhana. Even a year had not been enough for him to gather the strength to face his best friend, whose heart he had broken down to splinters then ground into fine dust. What would he say to him? And more importantly, would Duryodhana even listen?

Ignoring the growing restlessness in his heart, he smiled at Lakshman. “My child, you need to get some rest for tomorrow’s puja.”

Lakshman shook his head, begging him to let him stay with him. So Karna relented, but only after forcing Lakshman to lay his head in his lap as he slept. He gently caressed his forehead, feeling some of the tension dissipate and hummed a sweet lullaby that his mother used to sing to him. In no time, Lakshman fell asleep and Karna gazed at the hard outline of his face that used to be so gentle and so kind. Did he do this? Did the Pandavas and Kauravas do this? Turn a smart, optimistic, warm boy into a bitter soul who gazed at the world with cynicism instead of hope, with resignation instead of joy? 

Lakshman slept soundly in the lap of his uncle who he trusted so deeply but Karna stayed awake mulling deep, dark and dangerous thoughts as he stared at the horizon listlessly waiting for his father to grant him some peace even if for a brief amount of time.


	9. Invitation

Arjuna didn’t sleep well. But that was nothing new. He had never been lucky enough to get a full night’s sleep post-Mahabharata. It was kind of hard when he was plagued by nightmares and often woke up screaming in pain and horror at the memories of the Great War. In those awful moments, Subhadra would hold him tenderly, whispering words of comfort that never reached him because they often drowned in the incessant, violent beating of his heart. His entire body would tremble uncontrollably and he would bury his face in Subhadra’s neck, probably bruising her waist with the strength of his grip.

And he wasn’t the only one. He had often heard Bhima yell out in his sleep, slicing the quiet of the night with his agony that seemed to grow with time and was conveniently forgotten when he greeted them in the morning with a fake smile. Nakula had found his solution in sura because drinking himself to the point of numbness was the only way he could get some much-needed rest. He knew Sahadeva had given up on sleep all-together; he had forgotten the number of times he had come across his youngest brother, sitting near the window, staring at nothing. And he had no idea what Yudhisthira did, but Arjuna refused to believe that he could be that unfazed by a war that had cracked even the strongest of spirits. 

He exhaled deeply. Sure, Arjuna couldn’t sleep, but at least he could grant his tired body the comfort of a bed. If not his mind, then at least his body should remain healthy. The last thing he needed was to fall sick especially when there was a war looming over the horizon. 

So he stayed there, still as ice, staring at the ceiling and wondering when exactly this terrible sorrow had seeped into their lives to the point that it became normal for them to spend their days and nights grieving over one thing or another. 

As sunlight found its way into his room at the break of dawn, he forgot everything and began to mechanically prepare himself for the long day ahead. Perhaps the puja today would soothe his frayed nerves. He washed and bathed and then proceeded towards the main hall where he found Bhima and Sahadeva sitting on the round table with Krishna who had stayed the night in their living quarters.

“A wonderful day for the puja, isn’t it?” Sahadeva commented. The weather was cool and pleasant although a few heavy clouds littered the otherwise plain, blue sky. Arjuna noticed how fatigued Sahadeva looked, and he could instantly tell that Sahadeva had not been blessed with even a moment of sleep. His younger brother’s insomniac tendencies scared him, no one could survive on such little sleep.

“Say Krishna, will Balarama be joining us anytime soon?” Bhima asked.

“He will come eventually but right now he is needed in Dwarka,” Krishna answered, gesturing at Arjuna to join him at the round table. Krishna looked his usual cheerful self but Arjuna could see something was going on inside his head.

“Mother, you look so tired,” Bhima said and Arjuna looked over his shoulder to find his mother being led down the stairs by Draupadi with Yudhisthira and Nakul following closely behind. Bhima stood up and held her hand as she sat down composedly on the wide divan.

“Oh, I am all right,” Kunti said. “Don’t worry about me.”

“Did you sleep well, aunt?” Krishna questioned, his eyes filled with sympathy. All the five brothers exchanged a look. Honestly, no one in the Pandava household was sleeping well.

Kunti nodded, slipping her hand around Draupadi’s arm, looking visibly distressed. ‘It’s just the fatigue from the journey.”

Somehow Arjuna was not convinced by her words. He detected something beneath his mother’s impassive mask, but couldn't pinpoint the exact cause of her anxiety. 

When Abhimanyu and the Upandavas came down the conversation steered towards other topics that were not so unpleasant. Arjuna caught Krishna’s eyes when the two men noticed Abhimanyu’s stiff stance and eyes that were colder than the Himalayan winters. Arjuna’s jaw clenched tightly at the pitiable sight of his son and he peered at Krishna with palpable desperation. His friend’s face softened, and he grabbed his hand from under the table in an act of assurance.

A servant informed them that Lakshman Kumar had requested their permission to enter their chambers. Yudhisthira nodded at her and a few moments later, Duryodhana’s son strode into their room with an air of poise and efficiency. He bowed deeply and noticing Krishna, he inquired about the state of affairs in Dwarka.

“It is all good, Lakshman. Don’t you worry, your sister is fine there, in the care of all my queens and my elder brother. Her fears have been allayed.” Krishna smiled mischievously at him, “And so have yours too, I presume.”

“Nothing escapes the King of Dwarka, it seems,” Lakshman responded.

Krishna laughed. “That applies to both of us, doesn’t it?” 

Arjuna was surprised at the affinity with which Krishna was speaking to Lakshman Kumar. Maybe he shouldn’t have been so quick to assume things, but the manner in which Lakshmana had been married off to Samba, and Duryodhana’s reaction to it, he had simply extrapolated that same rage to Duryodhana’s son as well.

The way Krishna was interacting with Lakshman was akin to the way he engaged with his and his brothers’ children, almost as if Lakshman was no different from Abhimanyu or Shrutakarma. Arjuna glanced at Lakshman who was all serious and somber now, as he shifted his attention from Krishna to the Pandavas.

“I hope all of you have rested well and the arrangements are appropriate. If there were any shortcomings, then please forgive me. I will have it rectified immediately.”

“We have no complaints,” Yudhisthira spoke. 

While Lakshman Kumar’s manner of speaking was respectful and polished, it was also very reserved and certainly not how one would expect to be addressed by a family member. Arjuna noticed the Upandavas staring warily at Lakshman and wondered what was going on in their heads. From what Subhadra had told him, there was mutual hostility between them for obvious reasons. He knew that the Upandavas used to mock Lakshman for he did not possess the physique of a warrior nor was he confident of his abilities, a strange contrast to his brawny, brash father. Understandably, things had changed. Now Laksman strutted around with perceptive indifference and a clear-cut precision of mind. Every word, every action seemed measured. 

“I came here to inform you all that it is Grandfather’s wish that today’s puja be performed by Maharaj Yudhisthira and Maharani Draupadi.” Lakshman gestured and two servants came in carrying large, identical trays. “Grandfather has sent the clothes, jewelry, and other accessories. It would please him if you would grace the puja wearing these.”

“But…..shouldn’t elder brother Duryodhana and Queen Bhanumathi perform the puja?” Nakul asked as Draupadi removed the silk covering and gasped at the luxurious garments and heavy jewelry studded with every gem known to mankind.

“My mother has gone to visit my great grandmother in Kalinga and my father will not be attending the puja.”

“What about Dushashan and his wife?” Bhima questioned.

“Grandfather feels that since Maharaj Yudhisthira is the eldest, he should be the one who sits in the puja.”

Arjuna couldn’t believe his ears and from the looks of it neither could the rest of them. Their Uncle Dhritrashtra who had always sidelined Yudhisthira in his blind love for Duryodhana now wanted him to perform the puja that he kept in honour of his chosen deity, Lord Shiva? The King who had unjustly offered them the dense jungle of Khandavprastha and kept the glorious, sophisticated city of Hastinapura for his own sons? Who had silently let Duryodhana and his other children degrade them and their wife in the worst way possible, even though he could have stopped it with one word?

“Could you let him know that we are very satisfied and humbled by this gesture and that we will perform the puja as per his wishes?” Yudhisthira breathed and Arjuna sensed the disbelief in his voice. It was obvious that Yudhisthira was equally confused, and was thinking along the same lines just as he was a few moments ago.

Lakshman nodded at him and was about to take their leave when Krishna sprung from his seat and called out to him.

“Lakshman wait, what’s the hurry, my child?

Duryodhana’s son promptly turned back and folded his hands. “Forgive me, Dwarkadhish. Is there something I can do for you? ”

“Yes, son. There are some important matters I have to discuss with my special guest before the puja begins.”

Arjuna shared a glance with Sahadeva, both remembering what Krishna had said regarding Karna yesterday. 

“By special guest are you referring to Uncle Vasusena?” Lakshman asked, and Arjuna noticed the concealed emotion in Lakshman’s voice. And why not, Karna and Duryodhana had spent the better part of their lives in each other's company so naturally, their families too would be close to each other. But still, it hurt him that Lakshman had addressed Karna, who was not even family, as his uncle, but not Yudhisthira.

Perhaps Lakshman disliked them just as much as his father did, but was only pretending to be civil for the time being. This pretense of courtesy was quite surprising and even though Arjuna barely knew Lakshman, it astonished him that he was taking such care to ensure that their stay was comfortable. He had heard the servants talking about it, late at night, that Lakshman had personally supervised the entire process, from placing their favorite reads in the common library to instructing the cooks about each of the Pandavas’ eating habits. He had even installed a small medicinal cabinet for them, and when asked, the servant replied that Lakshman had done it for Mata Kunti, who he knew suffered from backaches whenever she undertook a long, arduous journey. 

Why was Duryodhana’s son being so considerate towards them, when there was no need for it? That too after they had fought on opposite sides of the War and Arjuna and his brothers had emerged victorious.

Were Dhritarashtra and Lakshman Kumar simply appeasing them out of desperation for their support in the upcoming war?

“Yes, who else?”, Krishna smiled. “Can you direct me to his quarters?”

“He…....uh…...he is not here.” Lakshman fumbled for the first time since he had arrived in their living room.

“What do you mean?”

“Grandmother’s orders.” Lakshman’s eyes turned caustic and a look of sharp indignation spread across his handsome features. “She didn’t want Uncle Vasusena to stay inside the Palace grounds.”

A hushed silence fell upon them. Arjuna couldn’t believe what Lakshman had just said. Mata Gandhari’s heart that overflowed with affection for all, who had never once spurned even the most malevolent of hearts should they seek help, how could she have done such a thing. And she loved Karna like her own son, they had all seen it. He couldn’t imagine what anguish had ensnared her that she would behave in a manner so different from her true, virtuous self. 

“It is impossible! Didi would never do this!” Kunti cried out. 

Lakshman said nothing to that.

“Where is he now?” Krishna asked, seemingly unruffled.

“He retired to his childhood home.” Lakshman sighed deeply. “I begged him to come with me, but he refused.”

“Well, he has to come to the ceremony so I guess we’ll talk there. Thank you, Lakshman.” 

Duryodhana’s son bowed and left them to their thoughts. 

“How strange! Uncle Dhritrashtra invited him here and Mata Gandhari refused him accommodation!” Bhima exclaimed. 

“I will talk to Didi, she can’t do this. This is outrageous! Bhima, take me to her this instant!” Kunti stretched her arm for Bhima to take. Krishna jumped in, placing a gentle hand on Kunti’s shoulders and smiled widely. 

“Don’t bother, Aunt. A mother’s wrath is a hellish thing and nothing you say will make a difference. Besides, this matter is between them, it is not wise for us to interfere.”

“I wonder how she views us now,” Sahadeva mumbled. Arjuna knew exactly what he was talking about. Gandhari was one of the sweetest ladies, since the day they had arrived in Hastinapur she had taken care to ensure that they were treated with respect and provided with all comforts. Despite the budding enmity between the Pandavas and Kauravas, she had never favored her sons, instead she scolded both Bhima and Duryodhana with equal fervor. At times when Kunti was too busy or too tired, she would take them inside her private chambers and listen to their stories and offer them sweetmeats that she had prepared especially for them. If any of her sons would be there, none of them would engage in any fights or altercations out of respect for their mother. Mata Gandhari had this golden light that shone, illuminating the uprightness of her character, and they all wanted to bask in her radiance. 

While Draupadi and Yudhistira went to get ready for the ceremony, Arjuna pulled his best friend aside. “Keshav, you saw him. Tell me, am I wrong in my misgivings? He wouldn’t talk to me or his mother! Maybe you can-”

“Parth, Abhimanyu suffers from his own demons and he alone must conquer them. He seeks answers that neither you nor I can provide him with. His mind overflows with chaotic thoughts that he doesn’t understand himself, how can you expect him to explain them to you?”

“So what do I do? I can’t watch my son in so much pain and not do anything about it! His eyes are so cold….I am afraid I will lose him if I don't act fast.”

“You must have faith that Abhimanyu will find his way through the maelstrom of his complex emotions. Do not despair Parth, he has already begun his journey and he will reach the end.” 

Krishna placed his hand on his shoulders, eyes brimming with calm certainty, and Arjuna sighed, nodding at him. He closed his eyes and sent a prayer to the Gods for his son, hoping that they would return him back to him the way he was. Gallant, gentle, and full of virtue.

By the time they reached the venue, most of the kings and queens had already settled down. Laksman Kumar guided them to the dais where they were to be seated and escorted Yudhisthira and Draupadi to the puja sthan. Arjuna saw King Dhritrashtra and Queen Gandhari together and was shocked to see how frail and frazzled she looked. Never had he seen her like this. Despite her, having immersed herself in darkness she had always stood pristine giving an aura of strength and courage like a true queen. He thought of his own grief when he had seen Abhimanyu after he had been attacked by six Kaurava warriors and how devastated he was at the mere thought of losing his son. He couldn’t imagine how Gandhari’s heart must have wrenched and how woefully she must have wept when the news of her sons’ deaths reached her every day after sunset. 

From the corner of his eyes, he watched Karna enter and give the hall a sweeping glance. He sat down farthest away from the puja sthan and away from all the noblemen. Dressed in cheap, cotton white and bereft of any ornaments, he could have been mistaken for a servant if not for his empyrean features, eyes that burned with a fire within them, and body that evinced an unnatural and unbeatable strength.

“Look, Krishna, your special guest has arrived,” Bhima said coldly.

“Yes, he has. Should I invite him over?”

Bhima gave Krishna a murderous look causing him to chuckle slightly and pat him on his knees. They turned their attention to the mandap where the puja had begun and the priests were chanting holy scriptures that sang praises of Lord Shiva. Arjuna imagined the snow-covered Mount Kailash, that dignified edifice serving as a gateway to heaven, its rugged terrain a metaphor for all the struggles one must overcome to reach the pinnacle of enlightenment. He closed off his mind, feeling himself drift towards that holy land where peace reigned and where Lord Shiva resided, where there was no fear and no pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry Guys, the wait for the next chapter will be even longer. I am swamped right now. Anyways, do leave a comment:)


	10. Sun

"Maharaja Dhritrashtra we await your decision." The Pandya king declared. The puja had concluded, the prasad and bhog distributed amongst the attendees, followed by a grand lunch with delicacies from every corner of Aryavarta.

"There isn't any decision to make," Krishna responded, having self-appointed himself as the spokesperson of Hastinapur.

"Yes, there is." King Sudakshina said firmly and pointed at Karna. "Regarding this sutaputra."

"We do not consent to his presence in the Army," stated Vardhaksheni of the Vrishni dynasty.

Bhima exhaled, supremely annoyed by the bizarre turn of events. Vardhaksheni had fought on their side, as had several of the men who were arguing against the inclusion of Karna in their battalion. He didn't understand why Krishna was so willing to risk multiple allies for that wicked suta who had committed crimes deserving of him being annihilated on the battlefield by Arjuna. He glanced at the man in question, who was sitting all still and serious. Somehow his silence further fanned Bhima's anger.

"Vasudev Krishna, do enlighten us why we should fight alongside the man who deserted the battlefield and betrayed the Kurus? How are you so certain that he will not repeat this blasphemy when we go to war again?" Vinda asked, his eyes fixed upon Karna in intense loathing.

"Forget it, Vinda. You ask this question to the man famed through Bharata as Ranchod" His brother replied boldly.

Bhima felt his brothers stiffen next to him. The Avanti rulers seemed particularly vitriolic today and were not afraid to take risks.

"Sometimes the biggest victory comes to the one who chooses not to fight," Krishna said softly and his eyes locked with Karna's. There was something in the way they stared at each other, communicating thoughts that only the two of them were privy to. Arjuna noticed it too ,and he leaned forward, trying to decipher the undercurrent of thoughts that ran back and forth between Krishna and Karna at the speed of light.

"Kshatriya Dharma has a word for such men. Coward." King Brihadbala stated, drenching the courtroom in a wave of shock. Kritavarman and Satyaki unsheathed their swords, outraged at the insult, and pointed it straight at Brihadbala in ferocious rage.

Krishna gestured to his loyal chieftains to put their weapons away as Ashwathamma stood up and fixed the Kosala King in a deadly stare. "Day by day, you are steering away from the path of Dharma. The men who you malign as cowards possess wisdom and virtue that are beyond the grasp of your ignorant mind. Do not even attempt to understand them, the only thing you will accomplish is making a complete fool of yourself."

"Dronaputra!" Brihadbala screamed, face red with fury. "I will make you pay for this insult."

Aswathamma looked not even the least bit concerned. If anything, he looked ready to have another go at him but didn't when Karna glanced at him in worry.

"Maharaj Dhritarashtra. We demand to know why Hastinapura is so keen on the support of the same man because of whom it lost the war. We were there, we risked our lives and fought for you bravely and yet you chose the one who deserted the Kuru Kingdom over those who were ready to battle to the death?" Sudakshina thundered.

"The War was lost the day Draupadi was humiliated in this very courtroom in front of hundreds of venerable kings and warriors. That day mankind had chosen its destiny. The only reason that the annihilation of Aryavarta was averted was because Karna intervened when the Kaurava warriors forgot dharma by attacking my nephew, and breaking one of the cardinal rules of a Righteous War!" Krishna said with a fiery conviction that sent shivers down the backs of everyone in the hall.

Bhima observed Abhimanyu sitting white-faced and rigid, staring at his uncle in abject distress. "Abhimanyu, are you alright?" Bhima asked, aware of Arjuna peering over his shoulder.

"Oh..I am fine. It's nothing" Abhimanyu mumbled, his brows furrowed in dismay. "I don't understand why...this...I mean......"

"Neither do I, your uncle has gone crazy." Bhima said, shaking his head. Leave it to Krisna

"Enough! Your hypothetical nonsense has no place here. Everyone knows that as a vassal, it was Karna's dharma to fight for Hastinapur." Vinda screamed, forgetting all decorum.

'"Forget it!" the Pandya king exclaimed "He is sutaputra. What would he know about Kshatriya Dharma!"

"Do not cross your limits!" Ashathamma warned, eyes glinting dangerously and hands grasped around his sword.

"Suta?" Anuvinda said, ignoring Ashwatthama " Do not sully the good name of Sutas. They are a loyal lot"

"Indeed...as if we all haven't heard the rumors. He is not the son of Adhiratha, a devoted servant of Kuruvansh." Sudakshina glanced around and shook his head firmly " No....no ..no...they found him by the banks of Ganga......this BASTARD!"

"SUDAKSHINA!" Aswatthamma screamed but that very instant the sun burnt like a blazing inferno in the sky, the intensity of its rays magnified, blinding everyone on Earth. The heat took on extreme and Bhima heard cries of agony around him as if someone had poured hot, molten lava on them. He closed his eyes but it wasn't enough, and sunlight seeped through anyways causing anguish that Bhima had no idea how to deal with. Surely scratching his eyes out was not the solution. He tried to use his angavastram but that exposed his chest and arms and he yelled at the severe pain that shot up his body. He fell down on his knees, his back bearing the brunt of the Sun God's fury though for what reason, Bhima couldn't fathom.

And then suddenly it all stopped leaving behind a calm, heavy silence. Bhima blinked his eyes, ignoring the hurt and gazed around him. Only two people stood upright, unaffected by Surya Dev's wrath. One was Krishna, his face solemn and the other was Karna who suddenly turned and Bhima saw eyes filled with a ghastly anguish like a soul was being torn apart. Bhima started, amazed at the piercing, sorrow on his face, so deep, it cut through everything happening around them.

"Sudakshina!" Aswatthama yelled with a gravity that reminded Bhima of Lord Shiva's rudra avatar "You have dared to insult Daanveer Karna, the greatest devotee of Surya Dev. Now Look!"

But Sudakshina couldn't look considering he was busy pouring water from the jar near him into his eyes and hands.

"Does anyone else have anything to say?"

Ashwathamma didn't wait for an answer. He grabbed his friend who seemed utterly lost and stormed out of the courtyard.

It took a while for everyone else to jolt back to reality and slowly the kings dispersed, most still hissing in pain at the burns on their arms and chest. He heard someone yell for ice and salve and Nakul ordered a servant to send the appropriate herbs to their mansion. Krishna joined them without a word as if nothing had happened and they had not been made witness to what was Surya Dev literally burning them alive. Okay fine, maybe he was exaggerating but this was something completely unbelievable and Krishna's insouciance was not helping.

After the medicines were applied to the sunburns, they silently made their way to their rooms and he could see that every single one of them was lost in their own thoughts. Bhima didn't eat lunch, he was far too distracted for that although it had been some time since he had eaten up to his appetite. Most days he just nibbled whatever was cooked and rushed away before anyone could question him about it. Everything felt so bland and no amount of spices or condiments could bring back the flavor of his favorite dishes, that the servants spent hours in preparing. It wasn't just the food, everything felt dull and bleak and hopeless.

He figured it to be the after-effects of the War but they had fought on the side of righteousness, then why were they going through this hell now? He had fought to restore Draupadi's honor and to prove to the world that adharma no matter how powerful, conniving or diabolic ultimately had to yield to the might of dharma. So, why had his heart ached and his hands trembled every time he had killed one of Dhritarashtra's sons. And why he had retired to bed with tears in his eyes that he never shed, at what he had done and what he had become.

Duryodhan. It was all because of him. It was all his fault.

It was his fault that Pitamah Bhishma, the revered grandfather, had been lost to the War.

It was his fault that Panchaali had been so tragically humiliated in the royal courthouse of Kurus that had for decades dispensed justice, only to ultimately become the stage for Aryavarta's biggest adharma.

It had been his fault that they had barely escaped death in the lac house that Duryodhana had constructed especially for them, where they were supposed to die.

All his fault.

Bhima was tempted to leave his room and rush out to where the Gandhariputra was hiding and beat him senseless for his pride, his jealousy, and his ego that had climaxed in the deadliest War known to mankind. He wanted to break the thighs where he had asked Draupadi to sit as a slave, wanted to burn the hands with which he had ordered Shakuni to cast the dice and wanted to puncture the heart that was filled with greed, malice, resentment and nothing else.

And he didn't believe a word of what rumors were floating around about his health nor did he care if they were true. Duryodhana should have died in the Mahabharata, every breath he was taking right now was due to their mercy.

When evening came, they were met with the news that really made him miserable. Their mother had sent an invitation to Mata Gandhari seeking her companionship but the Kaurava Matriarch had refused stating she didn't feel that the two could go on as sisters after what had happened. Kunti had been devastated and had locked herself in her room ignoring the calls of her sons. Finally, Krishna had talked to her but Bhima didn't remember much of it since he was busy staring at his mother and how awful she looked. Kunti had always been so fierce and brave but the last two years seem to have taken a toll on her. She looked so tired nowadays, eyes filled with profound sadness and face pinched as if struggling with some personal dilemma.

As the winds blew fiercely around him, he dreamt of bloodied bones and mangled bodies, of the cataclysmic War and the innumerable funeral pyres, and of Duryodhan and Mata Gandhari. When he awoke the next day he felt his tear-soaked face and prayed that no one had heard his torment and even if they had, they would choose to ignore it.

In the afternoon they made their way westwards where Dhristadyuman had invited them over for lunch. The Upandavas were ecstatic to spend time with their uncle who was more of a father figure to them than Bhima and his brothers were. Draupadi smiled at Shatanika who was narrating some tale which Bhima assumed was hilarious considering all the children were laughing. He wasn't listening. He was in his own world.

Madranaresh Shalya had joined them and he was engaged in some conversation with Yudhistira and Nakula. Arjun walked alongside him and when Bhima asked Arjun about Krishna's whereabouts he simply shrugged.

"Like he'd tell me."

"Don't you think he is acting very strangely?" Bhima asked.

"Yes, but what can we do? I tried asking him about it but he just keeps telling me to be patient."

"Why isn't he telling us? And why is he suddenly best friends with that Suta?"

Before Arjun could respond they all came to a halt and Bhima's eyes widened when he saw Duryodhana at the other side of the archway, headed in their direction. Suddenly Bhima felt the rush of anger that he had felt during the War when he clobbered Dhritrashtra's sons to the point that no one could even recognize them anymore, not even their parents. The rage that was so intense, it enabled him to ignore their blood-curdling screams and remember only a ravaged Draupadi in the dyut sabha begging for help.

But when Duryodhana neared them, Bhima was shocked at the emptiness staring back at him in the form of his cousin. His face was vacant as he noticed their presence and he simply stared at them. It was like someone had sucked the life out of him and he was void of emotions, feelings, and all that made life worth living. His face was pale and gaunt and he had lost a significant amount of weight to the point that one would question whether he had ever been a wrestler let alone the most skilled wrestler in Aryavarta. He looked so frail and helpless in the moment that Bhima was sure that his one touch would break him to pieces. Bhima couldn't believe it because despite whatever Duryodhana did in his other life as the Prince of all sinners, he was exceptional in mace fighting having learned it from Balarama himself. How could he have allowed himself to deteriorate so badly? But the biggest difference was in his eyes that no longer held fire within them instead they were defeated and desperate, ruined by a sorrow so profound that there was no coming back from it.

Duryodhana nodded at both Yudhisthira and Shalya, acknowledging their kingship and Bhima waited for the taunts, the jibes that were disposed so freely out of his mouth whenever he met them but his cousin said nothing. He just blinked and moved to the right to allow them to continue their journey to Dhrishtadyuman's mansion.

"Pranaam Gandhariputra" Shalya greeted him, trying to and failing to hide his shock. Yudhistira gaped openly at him, flabbergasted at the transformation of their brash, unruly cousin to the broken man standing in front of them. Again Duryodhana simply nodded, his gaze hard upon them.

"We were headed towards Drupad Kumar's mansion for lunch. Would you like to join?" Shalya tried again to evoke some kind of reaction from the otherwise fiery Prince. Because no way in hell would Duryodhna ever dine with the brother in law of the Pandavas he hated with every fiber of his being.

But Duryodhana shook his head and Bhima had to wonder if he had been cursed by some sage due to his arrogance and lost his ability to speak. If his father Pandu could get cursed for what was quite obviously an unintentional mistake then why couldn't Duryodhan who was the biggest Adharmi in all of Aryavarta.

"We missed your presence at the Shiva Puja yesterday," Shalya said, clearly refusing to give up.

Duryodhana's face remained impassive but something flashed in his eyes and recovering from his stillness he finally opened his mouth to speak. "Forgive me, I was otherwise engaged."

Bhima was shocked to hear his voice, so bleak and tortured, giving them all a glimpse of his pain and how lost he was in the vortex of his sorrow. Suddenly Dushahsan came running from the other side, yelling after his elder brother, then froze in his tracks when he saw the incredible scene playing out in front of him. Duryodhan glanced at him in cold fury and Dushahsan averted his eyes like a little child who knows he has done wrong and will be scolded for it.

"I apologize Madra Naresh, I must take your leave. There's somewhere I have to be. " Duryodhaan's eyes narrowed at Dushasana before he turned back at them. "I hope that you and my cousins have a good time." He said without even looking at Bhima or his brothers.

With that Duryodhana whooshed past them and they stood there in too much shock to do anything but stare after him. Dushasana ran, his face set in misery and concern and the two brothers disappeared from their sight.

"Impossible! Was that really him?" Sahadeva said, disbelief evident in his voice.

"He looks so....." Nakula seemed to be unable to find the right word.

"I cannot believe it. " Arjuna exclaimed.

"Arjun?" Bhima softly called out to his younger brother who looked up at him then back to where Duryodhana had been standing. "I mean....I just..."

"He deserves it," Draupadi said, her voice cruel and biting. "Every bit of it."

"Draupadi!" Yudhistira exclaimed at the acerbity in her voice. It amazed Bhima how Yudhisthira continued to be surprised by it after all these years.

Draupadi's lips curled into a cruel smile. "Kshatriya men think that there is no greater shame than defeat in war. But nothing can match what I have suffered."

Draupadi gestured to their sons and they continued their journey towards their uncle's mansion leaving the shocked Pandavas behind.

"Karna's leaving must have hit him hard." Shalya's voice was sympathetic. Despite the way in which the Kauravas had deceived him into fighting against his own nephews, he had come to admire Duryodhana for being a capable leader and an exceptional warrior. And Shalya was appalled to see him like this, in his current state where he was not even fit to be a foot soldier.

"Are you telling me...he actually cared...about Karna?" Nakula asked.

"Of course he did." Shalya answered sharply. "I saw it first hand how much trust Duryodhana had placed in that suta and how deeply he loved him. It was one of the points of contention in the Kaurava camp, that Duryodhana would have so much faith in Karna when there were so many illustrious Kshatriya soldiers present. He placed him above even Pitamah Bhishma and Guru Drona."

"Let us....let us continue. Prince Dhristyadyumna is waiting for us." Yudhistira mumbled quietly in a tone that made it apparent that lunch was the last thing on his mind.

Bhima didn't know what to say or do. His mind was blank. He had always compared Duryodhana to a volcano of anger and hatred that had begun to smoke when they had first arrived and finally erupted in that wretched dice game all those years ago. Despite the fact that the war was over, he hadn't forgiven him and still dreamt of killing him in a way that would make him beg for mercy. But something strange had happened when he had seen him today. He had been unable to feel the rage and anger that he always kept an arm's distance away instead a foreign feeling had stirred in his heart, one that he hadn't felt in a long time, one he never thought would be directed at the man he hated the most in this world.

_**Pity.** _

Bhima shook his head. It was all an act, a ploy to make them think that Duryodhana was weak and not a threat. He knew his cousin well, he had poisoned him as a child. No. This was another conspiracy to harm his family. He would have to be on alert for anything out of the ordinary. His younger brothers were his responsibility. He would not let Duryodhana or any of his brothers harm them again. Yes, it was all a scheme. That had to be it.

Because the alternative was that Duryodhana was really in that much pain.

And that Karna had done what no one, not even Bhima himself had ever been able to do.

_**He had broken him to pieces.** _

And that was impossible.

_**Right?** _


	11. Mirror

When the rest of the Kings were busy applying medicine on their sunburns, Ashwathamma had dragged Karna all the way across the palace, ignoring the servants who gaped openly at the agitated duo. Karna barely registered anything, he just followed behind his friend silently, befuddled and unnerved.

"I don't believe the galls of that Sudakshina!" Aswhathamma bellowed, still in the clutches of his brutish anger.

"Forget it," Karna mumbled.

Karna sighed when Aswathamma turned to him in obvious fury. "You are acting as if this is the first time I have been insulted" he replied with cold nonchalance.

"So? Am I supposed to just let it go?"

"I don't care what they think, my friend. Their opinions do not have the same influence over me as before. I have come to realise that I am my own biggest enemy."

"But Karna-"

"No. Don't you see how foolish I have been all this time?"

Aswhatthama frowned at him and flopped down into the armchair. Karna offered him a glass of water and sat down opposite him. When his friend was done drinking water, Karna took his hands and inspected the red, irritant skin. He was sure that it would go away in a day or two, but he still called out for servants to send some medicine.

"Does it hurt?" Karna questioned moments after the servant left them, having applied the paste on Ashwathamma's hands.

"It's alright."

Karna swallowed the lump in his throat and gazed evenly at his friend. He didn't know what else to say. How was he supposed to react to what had happened? He felt so lost and so confused. If Ashwatthama burns weren't so evident, he would have thought that he had imagined everything.

"What did you mean?" Ashwatthama asked him in a tense voice.

"What?"

"You said you finally realise how foolish you have been."

Karna leaned into his chair and closed his eyes, remembering all the insults, the jibes, the taunts that he had swallowed for so long. But it was more than that. While the words played out every night in his mind, mercilessly distressing him they were still less impactful than the disgust he saw with his eyes. The raised eyebrows, noses drawn up and wrinkled, eyes lit with revulsion and lips holding back the obscenities that would have been disposed of freely had it not been for the presence of a certain crown prince of Hastinapura. And while both Aswathamma and Duryodhana were always ready to defend him if some fool dared to affront him, he knew that they didn't notice these small, minuscule things. They were too high up in their castles made of privilege and good breeding, they who had never had to justify their existence nor get berated for pursuing what they perceived was theirs for the taking.

But Karna saw. He saw everything.

He never said it to anyone. Maybe that's why he rarely took Vrushali or his kids out for these occasions, where he knew they would be exposed to the condescension that was reserved for him. He was glad that Vrishali never requested him otherwise. His wife had always been content in the presence of their loved ones and was too real for the superficial and dubious interactions that were the characteristic of such gatherings. And his kids were more than happy to stay behind, unless of course they could fool around with the Kaurava children and the kids of the courtiers who were more accommodating of him.

And so he silently took on those unsaid words while his friends laughed merrily and pushed them away so that he could see them later at night. And though he was used to it, after all, he had years of practice, it still hurt to know how much everyone hated him.

Perhaps if he had been a bit more pliant or a bit more tolerant, things would have been different. But his pride would not accommodate these outlandish societal expectations. Young and temperamental, he had responded to his opposition with a false air of indifference, making it plainly discernible that he would not be so easily unsettled. Even if that was not the case.

"I was a fool to let it all get to me Aswathamma. What does it matter what they say? It does not affect me anymore." He continued noticing Ashwathama frowning at him, " Now that I know the truth, it's like a veil has been lifted."

He wondered how those who had derided him today would react if they knew who he really was. No, he was not Adhiratha's son, as Sudakshina had rightfully pointed out to the gathering. He was the son of the Sun God who had made them all kneel before him for the iniquitous insult that had been thrown his way. It was surreal, he hadn't even realised what was happening when the kings and princes fell down to the ground in pain, cursing openly, and it was only when Ashwathama cried out did he request his father to spare them from his vehemence lest the ignorant rulers perish from the heat.

Was he supposed to be delighted in a perverse fashion for his father's unexpected interference? Was he supposed to be grateful?

Karna shook his head as anger took over him. It had taken his father this long to realise he had a son? This wasn't even that bad, Sudakshina may have been downright fiendish but Karna had seen much worse in his life. That too at a young age when he had been so impressionable and those words had.........had.........killed some part of him. He had been a child, for heaven's sake. And yet his father hadn't shown up back then!! Nobody had known.....except him nor had he shared those cruel words with anyone. But they were there with him, engraved inside his mind and they would never leave him alone.

Then why had his father chosen to act now? When he was an adult, his ears already corroded with the world's hostility and derision, and his mind, too frail to care about anything anymore.

Was it because now that the truth was known to him, his father could no longer seek refuge in Karna's ignorance. That his simple defense of destiny molding their present and future, in line with the Almighty's grand plan had been punctured by Karna's actions in the battlefield. What rebuttal could now be used by the Sun God, he who had been a silent witness to every high and every low of Karna's life and yet had chosen to never come to his aid before.

All except that one time. A derisive smile carved itself on Karna's face. It had required Karna to make a suicidal decision for both his parents to show up. And even then it wasn't just concern for him that had made Kunti, turn to him for assistance. Perhaps, he should go easy on the Sun God. At Least his father's intentions had been pure.

"I wish I had known the truth before then it wouldn't have hurt this much. I would have been able to ignore it all."

Karna laughed hard. Seriously all of it felt like such a waste now. How was he supposed to go on now that Kunti had stripped him of the anger and indignation that had fuelled every aspect of his being? What was the point, now that he knew that the men he had hated so ferociously and longed to kill for his best friend were his younger brothers who would have loved and respected him in another life, one where Kunti had been braver. His whole life was a joke now. A total and complete waste.

"Karna", Aswathamma said, his blue eyes blazing.

"Why are things so messed up? How did we land here?"

"I believe it all started when Maharani Satyavati decided that only her descendants would get to sit on the throne."

Karna laughed again, this time in real amusement. "I wonder how things would have played out if Pitamah Bhishma had been the king of Hastinapura."

Honestly, he could not think of anyone more worthy. He was sure that the Grandfather would have steered the ship of Aryavarta towards justice and righteousness, he would have equaled King Bharat in bringing glory and fame to the Kuru kingdom, etching his name in history forever. Although Karna was sure that Pitamah Bhishma would not be forgotten by the future inhabitants of Aryavarta, he wondered how they would view him. Would they praise him for his loyalty towards the throne of Hastinapura or chastise him for his reckless oath that quelled the light of a brighter future. Would they admire him for his skills as an unequaled and undefeated warrior or condone him for his actions that had left Princess Amba without a home. Would they respect him for his austere adherence to dharma or would they remember him only for his silence in the dyut sabha.

"Nah! Then none of you would have been here." Ashwathamma said, his tone intentionally light.

"You could have made better friends." Karna smiled.

"Between an arrogant prince and a social outcast? Of course, I could have done better!"

"Surprisingly, I never saw you try......."

"It was a social service really. What would the two of you have done without me?"

"Such generosity!! I am so humbled by your selfless gesture."

"Indeed. And yet they call you Daanveer."

Both friends burst out in raucous laughter, ignoring the underlying tension that speared their minds every now and then. How they were both weakened by hellish thoughts and vicious speculations that refused to be quietened down, leading to dichotomous bouts of insouciance and anxiety.

"Oh! That reminds me", Karna opened up a knot in his angavastram and handed the item to Ashwatthama.

"A broken mirror?", Ashwatthama asked in curiosity.

Karna shrugged. "I am not sure. Chitrasena insisted that I give it to you when we meet but I forgot.

Ashwatthama stared at his reflection in the broken mirror for one whole minute before he blinked his eyes, realization dawning upon them.

"What is it?" Karna asked in wonder. Ashwatthama guffawed heartily and shook his head, rubbing his thumb against the rough edges. "That kid of yours is my favourite."

"But what does it mean? He was quite insistent that I should give it to you."

"It's an answer to a complex philosophical puzzle I gave him once. I can't believe that he remembered.................... and moreover, he figured it out. Hmm....looks like I will have to step up my game."

"You know he misses you terribly. I don't think he ever shuts up about you. Radha Ma even instructed Vrishasena to keep an eye on him in the initial days. She was sure that he would sneak out at night and bring you to us."

Ashwatthmaa chucked ."Well, that would have been interesting. I have trained him well. The Panchala army would not have noticed. And for the record, I miss him too."

"You know how he is.....he has so many questions and ideas. And he wishes he could share them with you. The rest of them miss you too, very deeply"

"So do I," Ashwatthama mumbled sadly and turned his attention back to the broken mirror.

"A wonderful metaphor for our present situation, is it not?" Karna said with a shade of bitterness. "Was that the puzzle?"

Ashwatthama smiled. "No, that would have been too easy, wouldn't it? It would have taken Chitrasena barely a few minutes to figure it out." He added quietly.

"So, did you talk to him?" Karna asked after a moment. He knew he was venturing into dangerous waters but he was aware that he had to because his friend needed to hear it. Aswathamma's face hardened and he looked away, rubbing the side of his face with his right thumb.

"No. I stayed with my uncle."

"He was there when we entered the royal hall with Krishna."

"And?"

"I saw the way he looked at you."

His friend merely grunted and went to stand near the windows, gazing outside.

"I am sure he is waiting for you."

"What do you want me to do, Karna?", Ashwatthama questioned with a tiny hint of frustration.

"Talk to him. Tell him you are hurting."

Aswathamma turned towards him. "It's so.......so........."

"What?" Karna questioned earnestly, choosing to stand close to Ashwatthama when he noticed the anxiety on his face.

"Stupid and petty. How many years have passed?"

"And? What does that have to do with anything?"

"Entire families have burned in the fire of Mahabharata and.....here I am, fixated on events that happened so deep in the past, it almost feels like a different lifetime. How can my insignificant problems take precedence over the despondency and hopelessness that has gripped the country? As a ruler, my mind should be focused on working for the welfare of my people and not get embroiled in matters that are better left in the past."

"They don't have to compare for them to matter," Karna said firmly. It appalled him that his friend honestly thought nothing of the years of indifference and neglect that he had suffered whilst his father trained the princes to seek revenge for the humiliation he had suffered at the hands of his best friend in the Panchala court. How Drona, so consumed by rage and pride had completely sidelined his son, blinded by the vengeance he knew only his favorite student Arjuna could bring him. And so Ashwathamma had quietly retreated to the shadows and watched silently as his father, the person he loved more than anyone else in the whole world gradually drifted further and further away from him.

"I think we both have things to do. You need to talk to your father and I have to face Duryodhana."

There was a tense pause where Ashwathamma simply stared at him, his expression blank.

"Are you ready for that?"

"No. But it's time to stop hiding."

Ashwathama swallowed heavily and nodded. Both men knew what they needed to do.

Karna's steps were firm and deliberate as he neared the mansion where the eldest son of Dhritrashtra had cocooned himself away from the world. Inside however he felt the weight of friendship that had given meaning to his life and his betrayal that had destroyed it leaving them both in nerve-shredding pain that neither of their families knew how to deal with. Poor Vrushali had tried so hard to open him up, to share in his grief, but he couldn't. He was a solitary man, always had been, never one to disclose his feelings with others no matter how much they loved him. He shut away his wife and his children who were utterly devastated at how broken he was and helpless since they knew that there was nothing they could do to ease his pain.

Karna stopped in his walk when he saw Dushasan leaving the mansion, tears falling down freely that he wiped away furiously with his right hand. He didn't even know how to react. Dushasan had always been so......rowdy and hot-tempered; he couldn't imagine him this vulnerable, much less in a public place where anyone could see him in this weakened state. But one look around the grounds and Karna realised that no one was there, which surprised him considering Duryodhana, the eldest Kaurava resided there.

Duhsahan finally noticed him standing by and came to a halt a few feet away from him. His face was frighteningly blank for one second before it erupted in ferocious rage and his eyes widened in unmasked contempt.

"What the hell are you doing here?" His voice was raw with anger.......and pain.

"How dare you come back here? After what you have done!" Dushasan screamed fiercely. He closed in on him, eyes blazing with a murderous rage and hands trembling violently. Dushasan looked positively demented as if an evil spirit had possessed him to the point that he had no control himself. But Karna knew that was not the truth. No spirit had seized Dushasan. No, this was all Karna's doing.

"Dushasan" Karna pleaded, and he saw something on the younger man's face, a tenderness that was immediately replaced by rage at his boldness to address him in such an open manner. Because you see Karna cared for him too. And not just because he was Duryodhana's brother, but for the person he was. Very few people knew Dushasan well but Karna could claim that privilege because the younger man had trusted him enough to give him a glimpse of his persona that was carefully shielded under the garb of arrogance and conceit.

He remembered that day very well. He had accompanied Duryodhana on his trip to Sindh to meet his sister Duhsala, who he missed tremendously now that she was married. They were passing through the jungle when suddenly a pack of jackals had charged on them. Duryodhana who had been riding far ahead had been their primary target, and the attack had been so sudden that they barely had the time to grab their weapons. While Duryodhana had flung three jackals out of his chariot with his bare hands another had snuck up from behind and bitten his leg, eliciting an anguished cry out of the prince. Others had rushed at him but Karna, gauging the distance and the time it would take them to reach Duryodhana, had instantly whipped out his bow and taken aim. With an entire army rushing at them, the jackals had dispersed, taking refuge in the dense forests. The healers had worked on the Crown prince and declared him fit to travel within a day itself.

When they reached Sindh, the Kauravas spent their days doting on their only sister who in turn gratified them with her laughs and her endearing affection towards each of them. Duhsala had this gift where she made each of her brothers feel as if he was the only one who mattered to her. And then Jayadrath had joined in and immersed them all in the pleasures of hunting, drinking, and in the delectation of each other's company.

But later that night, when he had retired early, Karna was awoken by loud bangs on his door. Dushahsan stood there, shaking slightly, eyes wide and tormented. Karna had ushered the prince in asking what was wrong but his words had died in his mouth when he saw the anguish on Dushasana's face. And then, the younger man had confessed to him. How he had nightmares of that attack even though it had been a month already and Duryodhana had escaped without any injury. Even the scars had faded, Karna reminded him. But Dushasan shook his head and told him about his fear, how he had been unable to reach his brother in time. How he had to watch him battle the animals alone and he could not do anything but stare in horror. How he had heard his scream and ran as fast as he could but was still unable to cover the distance in time. Karna assured him that there was no need to worry and that Duryodhana was safe and sound, sleeping in the room next to his. But Dushasan had held up his hand telling him that he knew he wasn't strong enough. And then he had joined his palms, tears flowing freely down and begged him to always protect his brother from any harm that may befall him. And Karna had promised a weeping Dushasana that he would always do so.

He had broken that promise.

Worse, he had been the one to cause Duryodhana pain.

Karna registered that Dushasan had been yelling continuously while he was in his own world and had taken to hitting him in the chest with blows that were heavy not with force but with emotion. He sighed remembering what Dushasan had said that night.

I am not strong enough...but you.....you are unbelievably gifted.... not just in archery but every other form of weaponry. I've seen it. I don't understand how.....maybe....maybe the gods sent you for my brother.....you must be there.......for him always....Promise me.......Karna......promise me.....

"Dushasan." Karna said but the younger man continued to strike him at his chest. 

"Dushasan....take me to him" He said again and this time Duryodhana's favorite brother listened. He froze mid-way and stared at him in confusion.

"Why? So you can hurt him again?"

"Let me talk to him."

"He'll kill you. He hates you now."

"There's something I have to ask him."

"What?"

"Why is he taking out his anger on himself and on the people he loves?" Karna said and gently touched Dushasan's left cheek, where the last hints of a well-delivered punch still remained. "If he wants he can take it out on me. But he has no right to hurt the brother who continues to serve him with unflinching devotion."

Dushasan shrugged off his hand and stepped backward. "He refuses to see anyone. Even the servants and guards have been removed and no one is allowed to visit him. Not that anyone would dare with that temper of his. I bring him food that he tosses aside and continues to drink the sura that the healers have advised him not to. And since the last few months, he has been taking........those herbs which have made him even more volatile. I don't know what to do."

Karna's heart sank and his throat constricted painfully at Dushasan's words and the veiled accusations. He wasn't sure what exactly he was supposed to do. The faith that Dhritrashtra, Ashwtthama and Lakshman Kumar had shown in him now felt like a noose on his neck. Of course, he couldn't tell Duryodhana the truth, that was out of the question. But then how exactly could Karna comfort him when he himself was the cause of his pain.

Dushasan rubbed his cheek where his brother had struck him. "He had fallen asleep so I had servants to clean up the place. When he woke up he was furious. Said he didn't want to see anyone. Started screaming. When I tried to talk to him he.....well you know."

"Let's go." Karna muttered. Dushasan stared at him, checking him for sincerity. He turned back and glanced at Duryodhana's mansion, trying to decide.

Karna wasn't sure what prompted him to make his choice, but he nodded when Dushasan motioned for him to come along.

And so Karna followed behind Dushasan silently, his heart weighing down with each step. He couldn't be weak now.

It was time to set things right.

Whatever be the cost.

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Yes...yes....I know you guys are waiting for certain interactions for long and this chapter might disappoint you a little, but I hope you can guys can appreciate certain nuances of this chapter. The friendship between Karna - Duryodhana, Karna-Aswatthama and Ashwatthama- Duryodhana is very fascinating to me and I have tried to put in some of it here. Also Dushasan's fear of watching his brother in pain is a direct inversion of what actually happened during the War.

I am sorry but I am caught up in a few things. I'll try to update earlier if possible.

Be sure to leave a comment if you liked the chapter (or disliked it) and share your thoughts.

Bye for now.


	12. Glass

The room was locked. Karna rapped gently on the smooth surface of the lustrous door. Dushasan sighed when there was no response.

"He's probably unconscious." He suggested. "Those herbs he takes......it does things to him."

Karna, undeterred, knocked harder this time, the sounds echoing in the empty archway.

"Look, I made him seriously mad,and he is going to be very aggressive, violent even. Maybe we should do this later."

"You should move."

"Why? What are you-"

Karna kicked the door open with his leg, ignoring Dushasan's hue and cry, and entered the chambers. He was shocked at the sight in front of him.

Duryodhana's room looked like it had suffered through a violent cyclone and should be demolished since there was nothing worth saving or keeping in it. It was in complete and utter shambles. The king-sized bed was destroyed, the wood reduced to splinters with some even having traces of blood on them. The sheets were torn to shreds and the pillows and blankets deposited on the other side of the room in a big, sad mess. The luxurious armchairs were overturned, and the table was tilted to one side because one of the legs was missing. The carpeted floor was littered with the pieces of ceramic, wood, and glass that had once been extravagant and unique figurines from across the world, coveted for their intricate and seraphic designs. The curtains had been ripped off and thrown into the fireplace where they burnt, serene blue turning black.

And there, sitting amongst the wreckage, his back to the wall, a bottle of sura in one hand, and a shard of glass in the other was his best friend.

Duryodhana's eyes were cold and bloodshot, his cheeks were covered with dried tear tracks and his lips were quivering as he mumbled to himself. His left foot was bleeding, no doubt he had stepped on the shattered glass, as were his arms from thrashing around the place. His chest rose with resignation as if every breath he was taking was a monumental task in itself and he would much rather be----dead.

"Brother?" Dushasan cried out, horrified and Karna guessed that things had not been as bad as when he had left.

Duryodhan's eyes flashed but he didn't reply. Instead, he kept his gaze on the shattered ceramic pieces cluttered near his feet refusing to grant them even a moment of attention. He stayed with his knees bent, fingers fiddling with the sharp edges of the glass shard that he held tightly in his hand.

Karna felt it just then. It started from a point in his heart and then gradually moved outwards as if mixed deep into his blood and soon every inch of his body felt it all the way to the tip of his nerves- the soul-crushing weight of guilt. A grotesque feeling settled deep in the pit of his stomach, one which blamed him for his friend's grief, one which knew he had betrayed him the day he had given that promise to Kunti and had been deceiving him in bits and pieces until his final act of abandonment. His throat was all clogged now, his breaths coming out rough and uneven because his lungs were filled with sorrow, shame, and extreme self-loathing and he simply couldn't breathe.

But he pushed it all down. This wasn't about him anymore. This was about Duryodhana. And Karna had to salvage what was left of him, whatever parts had survived his treachery.

"Brother?" Dushasana tried again.

Duryodhana's shoulders tensed and he looked up, blinking a few times, squinting at where Karna stood with Dushasan. Then without warning, he threw a log of wood that belonged rightfully at the fireplace directly at them. Dushasan inched backward in response as Karna caught the log with his right hand, ignoring the small cut from the sharp edge of the wood.

"Go away..all of you....leave me alone!" Duryodhana slurred, his words barely audible as he continued to sway wildly, spitting profanities. He was obviously under the influence considering he had barely registered Karna's presence, instead he had taken to staring hard at the floor, picking at the loose thread of the carpet.

"Brother....please...listen-"

"Didn't I tell you to leave?" Duryodhana thundered, crushing the glass shard in his hand. Dushasan gasped in horror as the blood dripped from his hands onto the carpet staining the emerald green in dark red.

"Go...go ...Dushasan go....or you'll die too.....like the rest of them.....my brothers!" 

Duryodhana's voice was hauntingly bitter "Bhima ..he killed them and made me watch" Duryodhana laughed with a sorrow so heartbreaking, so profound that all Karna could do was stare back helplessly, paralyzed with shock.

"Go away.........you go away" Duryodhana mumbled before chugging down the sura from the bottle like a madman who has been thirsty for days. Finally, he collapsed on the floor and the bottle escaped from his hands and rolled underneath the bed.

"Does he blame himself? For what happened to his brothers?" Karna asked even though he knew the answer.

"Yes.....I've tried telling him it's not his fault but he just..."

Karna walked towards where Duryodhana was, mindful of the glass, and kneeled in front of his friend. "Duryodhana?"

"Go away"

"No."

Karna saw the punch coming simply from the twitch in Duryodhana's face and he blocked his hand not because he didn't deserve it but because he was sure that Duryodhana would end up hurting himself.

"What are you doing?" Dushasan asked in worry as Duryodhana attempted to free himself from Karna's grasp.

"Well you tried being nice and clearly that didn't work out."

"No, I won't let you-----Hey watch out!" Dushasan's warning came too late. Duryodhana had slammed the bottle that he had seized from under the bed, straight at his arms. The glass shattered on impact, as pinpricks of pain shot up in his skin, blood mixing with the sura that had been left over.

For a moment there was complete silence.

Then Karna lunged forward, slammed Duryodhana to the floor, and locked both his hands in his own, immobilizing his friend underneath him. Durydhana thrashed his arms and limbs wildly but he was weaker now and still under the influence of the sura so his attempts were frankly easily.

"Let me go," Duryodhana screamed at him, trying to kick him in the chest but Karna held him hard, almost bruising his wrists with the intensity of his grip.

"No."

"You fucking---aarghh" Duryodhana growled and Karna could feel the anger building inside his friend, his stance recovering to that of the fighter he was. "I'll kill you..who are....I'll kill-"

"Your brothers are dead."

Duryodhana stilled immediately, mouth frozen with unspoken obscenities as Karna's words hit him straight through the fog of cartloads of alcohol and his harrowing lamentation. A wild, ominous streak of insanity swirled in his eyes, his weary face flickering with dread.

"But see," Karna's voice caught in his throat and he looked up "there's Dushasan. He's still here. He's your brother too and he's still here."

Duryodhana blinked. He swallowed and raised his head slightly at Dushasan, who stood mute, breathing heavily, too overcome with shock to do or say anything.

"You hit him Duryodhana...... he's your brother....your favorite...he loves you and you hit him. You hit HIM !"

Duryodhana' eyes fluttered and Karna saw, he actually saw the self-destructing hysteria, that immeasurable sorrow, that wretched shame slowly ebbing away in waves. The silence hung around them, heavy with emotions so intricate and tangled that a century wouldn't have enough time to scrutinize and make sense of them.

And then he looked at him. Actually looked at him and Karna saw recognition flood his face.

"Karna? Is that you?"

Karna heard Dushasan gasp aloud but he maintained his steady gaze on Duryodhana.

"Yes." He whispered lightly, the word drowning and dissolving in the tension that filled the room.

"But you left.....Have you returned?" Karna flinched at the raw emotion in his trembling voice, entwined with a frightening, ghastly optimism.

"Yes" Karna choked out. His voice was broken and cracking and sounded completely unfamiliar to his ears.

"But you left........you left....you" Duryodhana's expression changed, dark anger overcoming his handsome features "You....you are with them....aren't you? You betrayed me....you left ......those Pandavas...they got to you, didn't they?"

"No....I...."

"And you too!" He accused a horrified Dushasan "You're with them too, aren't you? You're all with them! Go on do it....what are you waiting for?"

"Do what?"

"KILL ME!" Duryodhana yelled. "Isn't that the plan? You, all of you, want me dead. Go ahead do it! Kill me! I don't even care anymore......just do it! You want me dead!"

"No!" Karna screamed at him, shaking him violently. "That is not true! I would never-"

"He didn't let me!" Duryodhana glanced at Dushasan. "I was about to and he saved me! I hate him!'

Dushasan fell down on his knees and began to sob, his entire body trembling like fallen leaves in the autumn wind. Karna shuddered as the implication of his friend's words hit him like a dagger to his heart which Karn was sure had ceased beating for a second.

Karna felt like....... someone had doused him in ice-cold water and he felt the chill seep deep into his body. His hands began to shake. Duryodhana tried to kill himself? No, it can't be. He shifted his bleary eyes to Dushasan and saw confirmation of his doubts on the younger man's face.

"But he won't be able to stop you!" Duryodhana laughed with manic glee and turned his menacing sneer at him "After all......... you are the World's greatest Archer!".

The last word, he spit out with nocuous vehemence and Karna's chest tightened at the absolute, pertinacious contempt that his best friend now regarded him with.

Duryodhana began to struggle again, this time more aggressively. Snapping out of his predicament, Karna grabbed Duryodhana by the arm ,catching him off guard, and pulled him to his feet. Duryodhana's steps were wobbly and Karna gripped his shoulders to steady him. But Duryodhana swatted away his arms and stepped backward, mumbling furiously under his breath.

"Brother!" Dushasan yelled out when Duryodhana tripped over the remains of a previously beautiful furnishing and landed hard on his back, muttering even more curses. Karna grabbed his arm again, and practically dragged him to the nearest armchair. Duryodhana sat down, holding his head in his hands, apparently too tired or in too much pain to do or say anything.

"Dushasan, go get water, bandages, and something to sober him up. And something to make him sleep."

Dushasan nodded at him, gave his brother an anxious glance and hurried out of the room. Karna sighed and began to clear up the broken pieces of glass, wood and ceramic scattered throughout the room. He corrected the chairs, threw away the shredded sheets, and opened the window letting the cool, evening wind rush in. It was dark now and he could hear the distinctive hooting of the owl.

"Karna?" Duryodhana's voice shivered with perceptible desperation "Is that really you? I am not sure" He shook his head, frailty padding his features and blinked his eyes a few times "Am I hallucinating again? Or are you really there."

"I am here." Karna said and kneeled in front of his friend and squeezed his hand gently.

"Everything is so hazy......and dim. I don't know what's true........where the dream ends and where reality begins " Duryodhana shuddered.

Dushasan returned and Karna began to clean up the wounds on Duryodhana's hands, trying to be as careful as possible even though his friend was too far away in his mind to notice the pain. The cuts were numerous but thankfully they weren't very deep. Karna dipped the towel in hot water and gently patted his friend's face, where the tear tracks had dried up.

"Here." Karna offered the tonic Dushasan had brought to Duryodhana who, recognizing what it was, shook his head defiantly.

"Brother please."

Duryodhana's lips twitched at Dushasan's pleading, when had he ever been able to say no to his younger brother. He gulped it down quickly pushing the vial back in Karna's hand. They took Duryodhana to the other room, considering he had all but destroyed the bed in his rage. This room was much smaller, Dushasan protested and Karna replied that Duryodhana could sleep here by the time the other room was fixed. Karna administered the tincture and in no time Duryodhana collapsed from a combination of delirium and overexhaustation, curling up like a little child on the bed. He tucked up the prince under the duvet when he caught him shivering slightly and Duryodhana wrapped his arms around his chest. Karna sighed heavily, tired both physically and mentally at the day's events.

Duryodhana's lamentation about his dead brothers came back to haunt him. Oh, he had seen the mangled bodies,appalled at Bhima's brutality towards the men he shared blood with. He understood the Pandava's fury and his determination to slaughter the Kauravas in accordance with the oath that he had taken but the manner in which he had pursued it was so sadistic, so barbaric that Karna could hardly believe it. He had held a sobbing Duryodhana, who had been utterly devastated at what had happened and while Ashwathamma had tried to console him with the wisdom of the sacred scriptures it had made no difference. The knowledge enshrined in the holy tomes may be the path to enlightenment but their sanctity could not alleviate the pain of having lost a loved one.

He wondered whether Bhima's hands had faltered if there had been one moment in which he had pondered the gravity of what he had done. Duryodhana's cries must have reached his ears. Had there been a slightest moment of grief or repentance for committing fratricide or had the Pandava relished the misery and desolation that he had heaped upon Dhritrashtra's eldest son. Surely, he must have felt something.

'Dushasan, you should stay here with him. I doubt he would want to see my face when he wakes up tomorrow."

Dushasan nodded at him and Karna walked into the night, away from the room that housed the man he had broken. Outside the winds had calmed down, the air was cooler. Soothing even.

He rubbed his temples, feeling considerably overwhelmed with all that had happened. He knew it fell upon him to make things right, after all it was his desertion that had created a fork in their destiny and it was his responsibility to make things better but how? What was he supposed to do? It was too bloody late. So many years had passed, living in hatred and envy, in obstinacy and apathy. Those emotions, those opinions were so deeply ingrained in the minds of everyone involved in the Mahabharata, how would they ever change. Yes, the War had been a tragedy of inconceivable proportions but it was nothing compared to the simmering and inconquerable hate that had been growing inside them all these years. The hearts of everyone, including Karna's were blackened by it and he doubted whether even the termination of the War was enough to make people rethink their ways. The deaths of the millions who had been sacrificed at the altar of dharma were regarded with limitless grief and wasted compassion because after all what did it matter now. But who was looking at the War with rationality and erudition, consequential from spending their early years in the company of the most knowledgeable brahmins. Each side believed they were right. Some had entered for the sake of dharma, some lured by the temptation of eternal glory and some driven by obsessive cupidity. And he was no different than them.

Why else did it take a young kid being unscrupulously slaughtered to death to shake him up from the putative apathy that every warrior had adopted before the commencement of the Mahabharata? Was victory so dear to him that he would have renounced honour to have it?

Karna sighed. There had been multiple reasons why he had saved Arjuna's son but there was one that was the most important, the most prominent out of all of them. While he had been weakened by plenty of thoughts while watching Abhimanyu battling multiple warriors in a direct violation of the laws of righteous battle, it was that one cause that had actually made him act before it was too late. Although perhaps it had been too late for all of them.

He looked away to stare at the starry sky above him, where the moon glowed in all its glory and he could hear the night creatures crying out their admiration at the unbelievably majestic sight. The thoughts that swirled in his mind continued to torment him relentlessly, but there was something deeply calming about the night and the darkness.

****************************************************************************************************************************************************************

A few feet away from Karna, behind a large Gulmohar tree, stood a young man who had been aimlessly wandering about after rejecting his step-brother's proposal of joining his cousins in a game of dice. He had heard raised voices coming from the north and decided to check out the cause of commotion. Sneaking closer to the open window he had witnessed the entire chain of events, with a mixture of shock and confusion. The exchange between the two men, one who had ordered his death and the other who had saved him. And even though he knew so little about either of them, even he could see the real emotions behind underneath the facade that they had adorned.

Abhimanyu watched as Karna silently stared at the night sky in deep thought. There was a part of him that desperately wanted to know what the older man was thinking. There was a visible strain in Karna's shoulders as if he was burdened by the weight of the world and his face was haunted by a profound regret. He shouldn't care of course for that man was his father's biggest nemesis, who had dishonored Mata Draupadi with his detestable words in that ill-fated dyut sabha, who had never failed to seize any opportunity to malign his father and his uncles.

And yet here he was trying to figure out this man, this enigma, who had returned from nowhere and changed everything for the second time. Abhimanyu ventured a glanced upwards trying to decipher what it was that Karna was looking at. The sky greeted him with the mesmerizing sight of millions of stars glinting in the sky like small diamonds. When he brought his sight back to the famed warrior, he realised that Karna had left.

For some inexplicable reason, he felt a deep disappointment within him.

Shaking his head, he slowly made his way back to his quarters.


	13. Awakened

A light breeze flowed in from the open window to his right, gently caressing his face and displacing a few loose strands of his hair. Outside he heard the birds chirping, signaling the arrival of the day with their mellifluous singing, arousing the humans from their slumber. The weather was cold and windy, a light drizzle having kissed the earth during the night.

Duryodhana's eyes fluttered open, and he hissed sharply at the migraine that flooded his head causing dark spots to obscure his vision. His hands reached for the bottle of sura, but he found nothing there. He sat up, wiping the sweat off his forehead, feeling drowsy and irritable. His hands were clammy, his heart rate increased, and he blinked his eyes a few times trying to make sense of his surroundings. He was surprised to see Dushasan there, sleeping peacefully on a chair. He also realised with a start that he was not in his bedroom.

Slowly and as quietly as possible, so as to not wake up his brother, he made his way to his bedroom. The room was a mess. No surprises there. He knew that under the blissful sway of the herbs he took, there had been instances when he, being driven by both paranoia and euphoria, had gone completely off the rails. He didn't remember any of it but the wreckage surrounding him in the morning coupled with his brother's anxious entreaties always made him feel miserable.

He made his way to the bathroom and poured the entire bucket of water on him. Feeling the cold liquid traverse down his body, he stood there in silence trying to remember what had happened. His head began to thump intensely, and he rushed to the nearest armchair as the world around him began to spin insanely. Fragments of memories cascaded his tired mind.

_He had been angry...at someone..........Dushasan yes.......he had let the servants in......they had fought and he had hit him......and then he had downed the sura and thrashed the place in anger.........and then..._

He cried out in pain, grabbing fistfuls of hair in his hands and bit his lip hard, trying to remember.

_He had fallen to the floor......someone...Dushasan maybe.......no, his brother was standing at the other side of the room.......someone had overpowered him.........medicine......yes that person had given him medicine..._

His eyes flew open in shock and disbelief, his heart thudding painfully in his chest as he remembered the man who had come for him.

Karna.

Was that really him? There had been instances, especially when he had taken hallucinogens, where visions of a non-existent past and future had haunted him mercilessly. But something deep in his heart and his soul knew that what he had seen had been real, that his friend, the man he had loved more than his brothers, who he trusted more than he trusted himself, had been here. He just knew it.

"Brother!" Dushasan came in, panicked, probably wondering where Duryodhana had disappeared off to. "Are you alright? Why didn't you wake me up?"

Duryodhana glanced at him and swallowed, speaking in a low voice."Dushasan. Was he here?"

"What?"

"Karna." Duryodhana's voice shook with emotion " Was.........was he here?"

"Uh....yes....yes he was..."

Duryodhana closed his eyes. His mind still screamed from the torturous headache, but he no longer cared because he was crushed with such a wide range of emotions that made it impossible to breathe. He felt it all. Hatred, because the bastard had betrayed him when it mattered the most. Shock at his audacity to come near him after he had broken him to pieces. Rage because he had trusted him with his life and the life of his brothers. Shame, that he had seen him like that and even tried to help. And finally in the quiet recesses of his heart, which still hadn't accepted his treachery, which still remembered those good times and easy laughter - Relief.

Because he still loved Karna more than life itself. And he hated himself for it.

Oh, he knew what everyone else thought of him. They believed that he had only befriended Karna owing to his prowess in archery because he could be his answer to Arjuna, who had emerged as a master of the bow and arrow under Drona's tutelage. And Duryodhana wouldn't deny that there was some truth to it. He had been delighted when Karna had successfully replicated every feat of Arjuna, for finally, he had someone who could stand tall against Kunti's third son. He could handle the rest of the Pandavas but Arjuna was a whole different game. But if Karna was by his side, then he could be the challenge that Arjuna never had in the Gurukul. He remembered sharing a smile with his uncle Shakuni. He remembered being delighted at his good fortune, that Karna had appeared then and already managed to distress the Pandavas and the rest of their idiot supporters with his unmatched skills.

But there was so much more to it than just that. Watching Karna standing there with his head bowed, eyes lowered in shame, hands trembling in indignation as the entire stadium laughed and ridiculed him for daring to challenge a prince; Duryodhana had felt terrible. Because unlike Yudhishthira who was ruled by the laws of dharma, he was ruled by unbridled passion. He waited for the learned men and accomplished warriors present there to say something, but shockingly not a single word was uttered in Karna's defense. No one had come to his aid, not Pitamah Bhisma, not Guru Drona, not Prime Minister Vidura, not even his father.

And then when Bhima, that witless oaf, had passed that derogatory statement, asking Karna to tend the stables as per his caste, something had snapped inside Duryodhana. Like hell, he was going to let that ignoramus get away with that slight. And so he had launched himself forward, declaring Karna the king of Anga, even though technically that was not within his power, and urged him to defeat Arjuna and silence those who had laughed at him. But just then the sun bid them farewell and Pitamah Bhishma announced to the excited crowd that the competition was over, much to their chagrin.

As the crowd gradually cleared out, Duryodhana turned and was startled when he saw Karna's eyes filled with unshed tears, staring at him as if he was something more than the proud prince that everyone thought he was.

"You have saved my honor today. I do not know how to thank you."

Just the way he said those words, laced with heavy sorrow, made Duryodhana realise immediately that life had not been very kind to Karna.

"I promise you my unflinching loyalty. Know this, that from today, anyone who dares to harm you will have to face me first."

Duryodhana smiled at him. "The men who laughed at you were fools indeed. Only I know how fortunate I am to have gained your friendship. Come with me. It is an honour to have you by my side."

At that time Duryodhana had dismissed Karna's incredible claims as fanciful declarations of a man whose ego had been bruised, but Karna had proved him wrong. He had indeed stayed by his side through every adversity, swallowed insults from others for his sake, vanquished the vast expanse of Bharatvarsh in his Digvijaya conquest, and laid its procured riches at his feet, asking for nothing except his friendship in return. But more than that, Karna had understood his silences and dreams, his insecurities and his fears, he had understood him in a way no one had. And Duryodhana believed that he understood Karna, too.

Until the day, he left.

"What is he doing here? How did he even get in?" Duryodhana thundered at his younger brother.

"He is here at Father's request, and he has the support of Vasudev Krishna, who says that his presence will prove beneficial for the upcoming war if it comes to that."

"What? He betrayed us! How could Father do such a thing? Does he have no honour?"

"I don't know. He didn't consult with me or anyone on this matter. We were just as shocked as you are."

"How could you let him in? Duryodhana's voice turned icy " Despite everything?"

"Brother...you were...I,"

"I do not require _his_ assistance. How dare you!"

"I am sorry..I"

"Save it. I must go see Father."

Changing into suitable clothing, he left his room, ignoring Dushasan's pitiful apologies. His heart that never listened to him, continued to beat unevenly, clamoring with wild thoughts that were making him crazier by every passing second. A part of him wanted to throttle Karna until he begged for his life. Another part of him wanted to hug him and cry with relief that he was back. Still, another part wanted to know why he broke his promise of always being by his side.

In those early days following the end of Mahabharata, he had spent his time recalling every moment where there had been even the slightest indication that Karna would forsake him. He found nothing. But then it could be because he wasn't really looking. In his heart, he had known that Karna would remain by him through life and death. And he had been wrong.

When his friend had returned, after staying half the night at Pandava camp, Dushasan had launched himself unsuccessfully at Karna in a blind rage, before being pushed back by Vrishasena and Ashwatthama. Duryodhana had just stared at Karna, wondering if this was the same man who had promised him the world. Karna had made no attempts to shield himself from Dushasan, nor had he said anything when the rest of the maharathis openly cursed him.

"Why?" Duryodhana finally questioned after an eternity.

Karna looked up and Duryodhana was shocked to see his eyes, shining with a pain so jaded and so ancient that all Duryodhana could do was to stare back helplessly.

"I...am sorry.......but I couldn't.....I,"

Duryodhana had no idea what his friend said next because he had fainted from disbelief, from exhaustion, and from the shattering of his unbreakable spirit into infinitesimal pieces that drowned and dissolved in the reality of Karna's perfidy.

When he woke up the next day, Karna was gone.

In that moment, Duryodhana had tasted both death and defeat.

Duryodhana grabbed at the nearest pillar to steady himself, as the pernicious imprint of the herbs on his mind left him confused and debilitated. The noxious numbness that had clouded his every thought, every action had been punctured and now slowly Duryodhana could feel it being lifted away, like black smoke. He didn't want that because without it he would disintegrate.

Isn't that why he had tried to submerge himself in fiery flames, wanting to burn away his entire being into ashes so he wouldn't have to feel, think, or do anything ever again? He just wanted to cease to exist.

But no, the gods wouldn't even grant him this. They _had_ to send Dushasan at the right moment before he would get the chance to embrace death.

As Duryodhana anathematized the gods, he turned the corner and because his luck was so fantastic he came across the Pandavas, accompanied by their children and Uncle Shalya. For a moment he wondered whether it was the herbs again, roiling reality, but looking at the absolutely dumbfounded looks on their faces he figured they were actually there.

While Karna's return had ravaged the shores of his sanity with a hurricane of conflicting sentiments and convoluted notions, the Pandavas stirred nothing in him. Strange, because people often said that his affection for Karna was matched only by his hatred of King Pandu's sons. He waited for his mind to signal him to do or say something, but his muddled mind opted to stay comfortably phlegmatic in the face of his adversaries. It was as if he was detached from his other self, slashed in half by Karna's desertion, and now Duryodhana did not really understand the man he was before. He remembered how deeply he had loathed the Pandavas but somehow standing in front of them, he was unable to fetch that hatred from the well of his heart.

Because it didn't matter. After watching his brothers die so cruelly, so mercilessly, after hearing their pitiful screams, begging him for help, after hugging their corpses and lighting their funeral pyres, it didn't matter.

Dimly he was aware that King Shalya was talking to him, but he was too lost in his own thoughts to care what he was saying. He was aware of the Pandavas staring at him in shock, and he ignored them all. Only once his gaze fell upon Draupadi, and he briefly wondered if she already knew or should he tell her that ultimately she had won. She had exacted her vengeance from him, and now she could live peacefully with the knowledge that Duryodhana would spend his every waking hour wishing he was dead.

_Could there be a bigger punishment? And if there was one, then he would take that too. Perhaps it would lessen the burden of his brothers' death._

When Shalya showed no signs of stopping, Duryodhana jolted by Dushasan's voice, finally opened his mouth, muttered something, and left the scene. He wanted to get away from the Pandavas, they were simply a reminder of all that he had lost. He made his way to his father's office, unable to tolerate their presence anymore. Before it had been because of hatred, now it was because of guilt.

The servants cleared his path immediately, keeping their gazes carefully lowered but Duryodhana could still see the sharp astonishment in their eyes. He could tell that his unexpected appearance after months of isolation would be the chief gossip for the coming weeks.

His father sat in a comfortable chair, listening intently to Prime Minister Vidura, who stood with bundles of manuscripts in his hands, reading aloud from one of them for the King's sake. There were a few other courtiers behind him, most of whom he recognized as heads of various divisions in the administration. Duryodhana swallowed when he saw his son there, amongst men of renowned intelligence, offering advice to his grandfather. Dushasan entered behind him, huffing aloud and Lakshman Kumar looked up, annoyed at the interruption.

Irritation gave way to astonishment as his son jumped from his seat, surprising all those present and hurried to him.

"Father! I...." Lakshman bent low, touching his feet and Duryodhana blessed him with a long and prosperous life. As Lakshman greeted Dushasan, Duryodhan headed to his father, bowing at him, who in return reached for him, cupping his face with his hands.

"Duryodhana? You're.....here?"

"Yes, Father."

"Son.......I don't.....I..."

"I came to ask you something."

"What is it, my child?"

"What is he doing here?"

"Who are you talk-"

"Vasusena."

Dhritarashtra's face crumpled upon hearing the aching bitterness in Duryodhana's voice, as well as the latent anger, simmering deep within. He motioned for the courtiers to leave them and sighed heavily.

"He is needed here. There is a war brewing."

"No Kshatriya worth his salt would lower himself in supplication before a man who forsake him."

"Duryodhana!" Vidur exclaimed. "Do not cross the line!"

"Then tell me, Prime Minister, what king would allow such perversion? Is this how honourable men behave?"

"The decision lies with His majesty. After several days of consultation, we have arrived at this settlement. The situation is very tricky."

"So that is how you justify this? The situation is tricky!"

"Father" Lakshman spoke up "Uncle Vasu-"

"WHAT DID YOU SAY?" Duryodhana thundered at his son. Lakshman took a step back and Duryodhana grabbed his arm viciously, shaking him hard. 'Do not ever address him in that manner before me. He is not your uncle! He is a traitor and nothing else!"

"Duryodhana!" Vidhura chastised him, and Dushasan moved forward to release Lakshman from his hold. "This is completely unacceptable behaviour!"

He looked at all of them incredulously. "Have you all forgotten what happened? Need I remind you?"

"You do not realise the seriousness of the situation. Magadh already has the support of countless kingdoms while we are struggling to get rulers to even listen to us. Like it or not, Vasusena has proven himself repeatedly to be an outstanding warrior. His presence will be of benefit to us."

"His presence has nettled several kings," Dushasan said. "Vinda, Sudakshina, Vardeksheni, and many others. Without their support, the condition will be even more precarious."

"Have they withdrawn their support?" Vidhura questioned, knowing the answer very well. "For all their needless clamor ultimately the vassal states of Hastinapur will assist us."

"Have you forgotten that Anga was a vassal state too?" Dushasan challenged brusquely. "What kind of precedent Hastinapur will set if it allows a traitor to fight its wars?"

"Is he still the king of Anga?" Vidura countered.

"That is not an acceptable answer! Do you honestly believe the other kings will buy that?"

"Oh for heaven's sake shut up both of you!"

Duryodhana turned to find Guru Kripa, leaning by the wall, staring warily at all of them. He hadn't even noticed him enter the chambers. Pushing himself off, he neared Duryodhana, a stern expression on his face, and Duryodhana took a step back.

"I am disappointed in you, Prince. Despite spending your childhood under Shakuni's care, you still haven't learnt a thing from him."

Duryodhana frowned at him. "Wh....what?"

"Yes, he's here, Prince. Vasudev Krishna brought him here because he thinks that having Karna fighting for us will prove to be beneficial. And don't you deny it," Kripa added when Duryodhana opened his mouth to protest.

"So let it be for the time being. After the war, we will deal with him."

"What do you mean by deal with him?" Dushasan asked, confused at Kripa's solution.

"Well after the war, when he would have served his purpose, we can do what we want with him."

"What?'

"Yes. We don't know what is going on between Karna and Krishna, but the latter has insisted on Karna's presence only in the battlefield. He said nothing about what will happen afterwards."

Kripa smiled in a way that was evidently sinister, his serious features turning towards amusement at Duryodhana's consternation. "We'll do what you wish, Prince. Throw him in jail, feed him to the lions, hang him as a shining example to the other kings of our vassal states."

Kripa chuckled. 'Whatever you desire, Prince."

Duryodhana glanced at the others and was relieved to see their faces frozen in shock, much like his. His father sat stiff, deeply disturbed by each one of Kripa's suggestions, Vidhura was looking away from them in disgust and Lakshman had turned paler than the winter moon.

Clearly, none of them had expected this.

"Why the long face, Duryodhana? You want to see him punished, right?"

Duryodhana didn't reply. He grabbed Dushasan and stalked off the room. But as he made his way back, he felt a chill run down his spine when he heard Kripa's laughter echoing in the nearly empty hallway, filled with ominous amusement.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

With this chapter, I have sort of ended the first part of this story. Whew! Honestly, didn't think I would make it this far. Gonna have to give a really deep thought on how to progress from here. And I would probably take forever to post the next chapter!

Anyways, do let me know what you think of Awakened. Also since the first part is over, I would love to know what chapter has been your favorite so far and why. Might help me set the tone for the rest of the story. And if I really like your answer, I might incorporate it in some way ;)

So yes, pls do leave a review! Adios!


	14. Questions

"Uncle Ashu!"

Ashwathamma turned around to find Lakshman Kumar running after him. He halted immediately, waiting for the young man to catch up. Ashwatthama had left his room a few minutes after Karna had gone to visit Duryodhana in the latter's chambers. It was as Karna had said, they both had things to do.

"Uncle Ashu, where are you headed?" Duryodhana's son asked breathlessly when he finally reached him.

"To my father's place. Is there something you want, my child?" Ashwathama gently ran a hand through Lakshman's dark hair, smiling widely at him.

"Yes. I do."

Ashwathama frowned at him. "What is it?

"Answers."

Ashwathama took the prince by his arm and walked towards the nearest tree, a large banyan that had been there for close to a century. Sitting in its cool shade, Ashwathamma peered at his friend's son who looked far older and wiser for his age. Lakshman Kumar had always been an awkward boy, so thoroughly terrified of saying or doing something wrong that he barely ever opened up to anyone. It didn't help that he had no brothers and while Lakshmana had been there, she being a woman faced hurdles of her own which were vastly different from the ones he was supposed to conquer. He had been more open with Karna and him than he had been with anyone else, including his father. But then again their personalities were as different as night and day, so perhaps he shouldn't really be surprised at all.

"Speak my child."

"Where were you, Uncle? Or rather, why weren't you here?" Lakshman's voice had a slight edge to it, which Ashwatthama found rather alarming.

"You know why. I had to leave for Panchala. With the war over and the casualties......I had to look after the kingdom and ensure that things won't get worse."

"Is that it?"

Ashwathama narrowed his eyes at him and sat up a little straighter. "What do you mean?"

"I am not a child, uncle Ashu. For the past year, I have been working with the Prime Minister and other courtiers to ensure that Hastinapura doesn't fall deeper into the depths of poverty and depravity. I have been regularly corresponding with every section of our administration and I am well informed of the situation in Uttar Panchala." He swallowed then, his face pale, and hissed, "So let me ask you again, why weren't you here?"

"Lakshman-"

"Do you not care?" Lakshman's voice was raw with anguish, with bitterness, and with accusation. Eyes blurring with unshed tears, he gazed at him with burning despair, waiting for an answer.

"Of course I do," Ashwathama replied, dismayed that Lakshman Kumar would even harbour such a thought in his mind. He stretched his hand to comfort the kid, but Lakshman moved away from him, his face grim and unrecognisable.

"No, you don't. No one does. Not my father, who has locked himself away from the world and refuses to let us help him. Not uncle Dushasana or my other uncles who are trapped by their own guilt and misery to think of anything else. Not uncle Vasu who disappeared without a goodbye, taking everything away with him. And not my Uncle Ashu, who left when he was needed here the most."

"Lakshman, please...." Ashwathama started but didn't finish. What exactly was he supposed to say? That when Karna left, he didn't just destroy Duryodhana but him too. How was he supposed to console his best friend when he was just as heartbroken? Did Lakshman really not recall how close Ashwathama was to Karna, their friendship was just as profound as the one between Karna and his father. Why did everyone always forget about him?

_Just like his father had._

"I am sorry, my child. You are right, I should have been here." He conceded after several minutes of silence, broken only by Lakshman's ragged breathing. And though Ashwatthama did not regret leaving, especially after what had happened, after what had been said to him, he did care deeply about Lakshman. A part of him wondered if it would have been better if he had taken the boy with him to Uttar Panchal. He couldn't imagine what Lakshman must have gone through, considering every adult in the family had more or less gone been destroyed by grief and would have probably forgotten about this young man all together. He must have been so alone in this grand mansion. Must have been forced to deal with the horror of Mahabharat and its aftermath all by himself.

Lakshman looked stunned. Perhaps he had expected Ashwatthama to fervently deny his allegations, or at least make a cursory if only perfunctory effort to defend himself.

"Well...yes...you..... you should have." Lakshman's voice was raspy and weak.

"It's so unfair. The way we have treated you." Ashwathama berated himself for not thinking of Lakshman Kumar, this wise kid who had always been so alone, so overlooked in the midst of the power struggles for the throne of Hastinapura.

_Much like him._

"How.... how can I make it up to you?" Ashwathama asked earnestly, hoping that Lakshman would give him a chance to redeem himself.

Lakshman stood up suddenly, his lip quivering and eyes jaded. "You can't. But for starters," he choked back a sob, "Don't you leave again."

Ashwathama watched Lakshman Kumar practically sprint across the grounds, trying to get away in time before he had a breakdown in front of him. He should have gone after him, inquired about his health and how the past year had been to him.

But he didn't.

Because he already knew the answer to that question.

By the time he reached his father's cottage, it was dark already. The birds had retired to their nests and the only sounds that could be heard came from the soft creaking of branches that danced in the evening wind. He loved it here, living so close to nature. Just as he thought this a rabbit brushed past his feet into the shaggy bushes that dotted the path to the door of the hut.

Hesitantly, he opened the door and entered, taking care to keep his existence hidden from his parents. A heavy emotion filled his heart, at the familiarity and comfort of his home. He had missed it so much.

His father sat in the center of the room, eyes fixed on the manuscript he was reading near the lit oil lamp. He took his time to observe his father, face set in determination as he read through the manuscript, mouth a thin line and eyes still and serious like always. His heart, which was much weaker and nowhere near as hard as his father's wrenched at the sight. Because despite everything, he loved him still.

His father finally noticed him standing there, staring at him like an idiot. For a moment, they just stood there observing each other. Minutes passed before Ashwathama jerked out of his reverie and kneeled in front of his father, seeking his blessings. Lightly, Drona grazed his hair mumbling words that he assumed were good wishes because Ashwathama wasn't really listening. He was far too busy trying to compose himself and not give in to the agonizing emotions that just wouldn't let him be.

And on his lips was the same question that Lakshman Kumar had asked him an hour ago.

_Do you even care?_

His mother came out of the kitchen where she had been preparing dinner and hugged him hard, tears forming in her eyes. He smiled at her, as he wiped them off her face and whispered "How are you, mother?"

Her mother didn't respond; instead, she burst out crying and buried her face in his chest. It surprised him because his mother Kripi, though never on the same level as Drona, had always been reserved and unsentimental no matter what adversity came her way. He wasn't sure how to respond because for the longest time he was certain that both his parents were made of iron and as such would never yield to something as fragile and feeble as emotions.

"Why didn't you come home early? Why did you stay with my brother?"

"I.....I was going to come but....uh, I was tired from the journey and Uncle Kripa...well-"

"A son's paramount concern should be his mother and father." Drona declared.

"Yes...I know..."

"I missed you so much." Kripi returned to her characteristic solemness for which Ashwathamma was glad and he gave her a wide, winsome smile. "I missed you more."

"Now that you are back, I am not letting you go anywhere. Not even to my brother."

Ashwathama chuckled heartily. This was one of the rare times when Kripi shed her customary aloofness to express her affection, her joy at having him back, and he was enjoying it very much. "There's nowhere else I want to be."

"Why have you not been responding to our letters?" Drona lowered the manuscript and arched his eyebrows at him. Kripi lay a soothing arm on Drona's arm, clearly not wanting things to go downhill. He wasn't sure if his mother was angry at him too, though if she was he wouldn't blame her.

"I ....was.....there were things I had to take care of in Uttar Panchala. It is my duty as a king."

"And what of your duty as a son?"

Ashwathamma frowned. This wasn't fair. He had been a good son in every way. "Forgive me father but I do not see where I have failed as a son. I know I should have replied, but things were not well in the kingdom" And he wasn't lying about that. The Great War had brought with it a tsunami of mayhem, destitution, and malversation, and he needed to act fast before his subjects were submerged under it. It was his dharma, as the ruler to act in the welfare of his kingdom.

"And you were so occupied that you couldn't spare a few minutes for us." Drona's voice was low, full of gravel. "You knew that your mother was not doing well."

"What are you saying? I sent the physicians and nurses promptly and -"

"We do not require _YOU_ to _PROVIDE_ us with anything!" Drona shouted and Ashwathamma flinched at the tone, so full of disapproval and disappointment. Because that was what he had always been to his father. A giant disappointment.

"Your mother was sick and you couldn't be bothered?"

Anger rose through his body along with a searing pain at Drona's harsh words that he spit out with no contrite. How dare he suggest that Ashwathama didn't care for his mother? He wanted to scream, to howl his pain like a wild beast at his father's callousness and his indifference towards him. He was sick of it.

"Father, please do not accuse me of something so shameful." His words were laced with the quietness that screams the arrival of a deadly storm.

"Then start acting like you actually care. I've raised you better than this."

"You did not raise me, my mother did. You were far busy training the Pandavas and the Kauravas."

Something flashed in Drona's eyes, his usually stoic and impassive mask broke and an unfathomable emotion set in its place.

"Ashwathama!" Kripi rebuked, previous sentiments all forgotten.

"What is that supposed to mean?" The sharpness of his voice sent shivers through Ashwathama's body.

"It just means that I will not tolerate an accusation like that from anyone. Not even from you, Father."

"Is it an empty allegation, though? Is it not backed by your own actions?"

"I do not owe you an explanation."

"Enough!" Kripi thundered, stepping away from him. "What is this behavior? The child I raised would never act like this!"

"No! Let him speak. I want to know what he has to say. Go on" Drona prodded.

Ashwathama felt an ache all the way to his guilt. All he ever wanted was his father to spare some time for him, to look at him the way he looked at Arjuna, to be proud of him. He knew he wasn't perfect, but he had tried, the gods above knew he had tried only to crash and burn like a fallen star. Apparently, according to his father, he was not good enough. He would never be good enough.

He could have said all this but what was the point, especially after all these years. When did anyone ever _really_ care about what he had to say?

"Well?" Drona made no effort to hide his impatience. Kripi stood by him, her displeasure evident from the tightness of her mouth.

So Ashwatthama did what he always did. He swallowed the bitterness of his lonely childhood, ignored the pain of his father's complete disinterest in him, forgot about the harsh words and the cold silence, and breathed out a slow, weary sigh.

"I am sorry, Father. I was being.... unreasonable. Forgive me, please."

Dinner was tense and unsatisfying and Ashwatthama seriously regretted coming back to the house although his father's words did not really surprise him. Like, what else did he think was going to happen? His father would magically develop emotions like other mortals and confess that he missed him? That he cared for him? That he wanted him by his side?

The longing inside of him had turned into a dull ache at the pit of his stomach. He was foolish to give in to his sentiments, he really should have known better. Especially after all these years.

At some point in night, Ashwatthama left his home and wandered out. He couldn't sleep there even if he tried his best. Maybe he would just lie on the cold ground and watch the stars all night. That honestly seemed like a wonderful proposition. Anywhere but here.

As he ambled along the path, he decided to take a turn and see if Vasusena was awake.He felt a little hesitant to approach his friend at such an hour but then again, it's not like he had anywhere else to go to. Besides, if Vasusena was asleep he would simply leave him be and return home.

His friend stood outside his house, leaning against an Ashoka tree staring at the night sky. Ashwatthma knew Karna like no one did. He was aware of what every expression, every sigh, every laugh meant and so when he saw the look in his friend's eyes, his drooping shoulders and defeated posture he knew nothing had gone right.

"Karna?" He called out and his friend acknowledged his presence with the briefest of nods, before turning his gaze back to the sky.

"Beautiful night, isn't it?" Karna breathed.

"It really is."

"Father always said that every night holds a different meaning for everyone. For some, it is a time to indulge in the soft emotions of love and passion, for some it is to give in to thoughts that cannot see the light of the day, for some it is basically a chance to soak in their sorrow."

"What does tonight mean to you?" Ashwatthama questioned, standing by Karna.

Karna smiled at him. "A chance for introspection."

"How did the meeting with Duryodhana go?"

"How do you think? I suppose he was far too intoxicated so I am not sure if he will even remember I was there."

Karna rubbed the back of his neck. "I hope your mother is doing fine now. And your father too. How did your reunion go?"

"How do you think?" Ashwatthama responded drily causing Karna to laugh.

"Looks like we both set ourselves up for failure."

Ashwatthama scoffed. "Wouldn't be the first time."

"Wouldn't be the last time either," Karna added.

The wind picked up speed and the cold that had seemed pleasant during his walk was now piercing, leaving him numb. He rubbed his arms to warm himself and Karna noticing the movement suggested they retire for the night. Ashwatthama nodded at him but he had no intention of going back to his parents' place so he requested accommodation at Karna's house.

He was shocked to see the hesitation on his friend's face. Surely Vasusena wouldn't deny him? But with the day he had, he could be wrong.

"Ashwatthama, the thing is....actually"

He could actually feel the pain of Karna's dismissal, of his rejection coming in so he shifted his glance elsewhere to hide his disappointment.

"The house....I didn't get a chance to clean it properly. You should probably sleep in my room."

Ashwatthama blinked his eyes and released the breath he didn't know he was holding. Seeing the relief on his face Karna questioned him about it.

"I thought...... I thought.....you didn't want me here." He answered uncertainly.

Karna gaped at him for a few seconds before punching him on the shoulder and cackling with laughter. "You know for someone who is a distinguished scholar and an accomplished ruler, you can be pretty daft at times." Ashwatthama just shrugged, feeling himself flush like an idiot.

Karna was still laughing wildly. "Like I would ever be able to rid myself of you."

Ashwatthama narrowed his eyes at his friend and tried his best to look offended but he was betrayed by the small smile on his face and the relief that at least he had a few people he could always count on, no matter what. So he chortled alongside his friend and felt much lighter than before.

"Come on, let's go inside...it's freezing out here," Karna said after some time, finally coming out of his pondering to notice the drop in temperature.

The two friends made their way inside Karna's small but cozy house that felt warm and welcoming, despite its dilapidated state. There was no talk of the Kauravas or the Pandavas, of the perilous position of Hastinapura in the war or of Somadhi's next move. At some point, he could tell Vasusena wanted to ask about what happened with his father but didn't because just like Ashwatthama, he too could read him better than anyone else. So they spent the night talking about the stupidest, most irrelevant things but it didn't matter because it was fun and enjoyable and heaven knew he needed to cool off a little.

When Ashwatthama woke up at the break of dawn, he found himself lying on the bed, covered head to toe in a large, woolen blanket. He lifted his head and raised himself on one elbow to see Karna sleeping blissfully on an old, ragged bedsheet that Ashwatthama was sure did nothing to protect him against the cold. Something stirred in him at the thought of his friend and his boundless, extensive kindness and his generosity that would put several of the so-called nobles to shame. Looking at the soft, carefree expression on his face, Ashwatthama marveled at all the effort that Karna must have made to keep his walls high up and to keep others out. He was glad to be one of the few who had been granted the gift of his friendship and acceptance.

He knew that he should probably wake up Karna or he would end up missing his daily ablutions by the Ganga but somehow he knew that his friend needed the rest and that the Sun God will understand and forgive this small transgression. He lowered himself on the bed and decided to sleep the fatigue off, ignoring the simmering tension he felt deep within.

He knew things would only get worse from here.

He just knew it.


	15. Garden

“Ashwatthama, please!”

“Go away, Prince. I am busy.”

“Doing what exactly?”

“Staring at the horizon.”

Duryodhana sighed. Ashwathamma sat cross-legged on the soft grass of the lawn that Kripi had nurtured devotedly, turning it from a barren patch of wasteland to a quaint, little garden. There was something indescribably charming about it and that combined with the moments when Aswhatthama would go on one of his philosophical rants made the place a sacrosanct destination for quiet contemplation. He really liked it here. Although now he wasn’t sure if he was welcome.

Duryodhana sat down beside his friend. Ashwatthama wouldn’t even look at him. He kept his gaze firmly on the setting sun and for a few moments, Duryodhana kept mum trying to decide on the best approach to get the reticent brahmin to talk to him.

Moments passed and Duryodhana felt dread crawl over his skin. Ashwatthama’s stubborn refusal to grant him even one instance worth of acknowledgment was starting to make him feel restless. 

“Ashwatthama-”

“Leave me alone. Isn’t that what you had said?” Ashwatthama’s eyes were cold.

“Please, hear me out…….I am sorry…”

“Of course, you are!” Ashwatthama snarled at him, then turned away. “Please Duryodhana, I am really not in the mood.” He added.

“Damn it, Ashwatthama, I am really trying here!” Duryodhana yelled, his stomach churning with anxiety.

“Oh! Thank you so much. I am so deeply humbled that you came all the way to apologize for nothing!”

Duryodhana felt dizzy as if someone had struck him on the head with a wooden club. He wasn’t sure what exactly he was supposed to do. Or how to make things right. Helpless. Yes, helpless. That’s what he was feeling at the moment. Because……..because he knew that Ashwatthama’s anger was justified.

See, in the days following the end of Mahabharata, Duryodhana had been rocked by such a powerful squall of depression that he had completely fallen apart, deteriorating both physically and mentally even as his family begged him to seek help. Their relentless efforts were wasted on him. As had been the pattern for much of his life, he didn’t listen.

Because he could see through their lies. It was all his fault. And they knew it too.

But Ashwatthama, that damn brahmin wouldn’t stop. He just wouldn’t let him be. Every day he would come to him with the knowledge enshrined in the Vedas, as if that would bring back his brothers. And what did Ashwatthama know anyway? He hadn’t lost a loved one. His father, the man he worshipped second after Lord Shiva, remained steadfast on the battlefield, undefeated and unrivaled. Karna, who could annihilate entire battalions with the tempest of his arrows, did not require any prayers for his well-being. Duryodhana had crushed scores of enemies under the blows of his mace, eyes searching and waiting for a chance to defeat Bhima, once and for all. All three of them had survived the war. Who else did Ashwatthama care for anyways?

He had pleaded with Dronaputra to let him be, to wade, wallow and drown in his misery and guilt, but Ashwatthama refused. And so one fine day, under a torturous hangover from innumerable bottles of sura, and an even greater hangover from Ashwathhama and his stupid, pointless philosophies he had simply snapped. Lashing out at the friend who had chosen him over anyone else, even his father, he had launched into an unfair diatribe, attacking every aspect of his character, mocking every facet of his personality. Hitting him where it hurt, he had spit out mordacious taunts that had more venom in them than in the fangs of the most vicious snakes. He had finished off his scathing tirade with the worst possible insult, claiming that Drona never cared for him and that he would have preferred someone like Arjuna as his son. 

He would never forget the look on Ashwatthama’s face after he was done.

His friend said nothing. He just blinked a few times, stared at him for long, agonizing moments, and then left without a word. 

That day Duryodhana realized that he had lost both his friends and that he was now finally, truly alone in the world.

That night he had tried to kill himself.

“Ashwatthama, I was wrong….please…..I am so sorry” Duryodhana pleaded with all of himself and this time it looked like his friend was listening. “I shouldn’t have said those things.”

“But you did anyway.”

Duryodhana exhaled a long breath and nodded. He picked off a blade of grass and twirled it around his fingers. “You know that I didn’t mean any of it.”

“I was just trying to help.”

“I know. You always are.”

“Why do you do this to yourself? And to others?”

“I don’t know. I can’t control it.”

Ashwatthama turned and looked at him. “Where is she, Duryodhana?”

“Who?”

“Bhanumathi.”

Duryodhana swallowed heavily and threw away the grass blade. “At her father’s place. Her grandmother is sick.”

“Is that it?’

“She didn’t want to go. She wanted to stay here but I wouldn’t let her.” He didn’t recognize his voice. It was hollow and empty.

“Why?’

“Because I would have hurt her too. Like I hurt you. And Dushasana. And my parents. And my brothers.” Duryodhana laughed bitterly. “The ones who are alive.”

“Duryodhana-”

“No, Ashwatthama. I don’t want to talk about that. At least not now.”

Ashwatthama seemed to understand and thankfully he did not prod him on the matter. They sat in silence staring at the darkening sky, each lost in his own thoughts. Duryodhana stretched his legs and gazed at the koyal sitting atop a gulmohar tree with her children. He flinched when the image of his mother flashed in his mind. She was the only one who hadn’t approached him since the day he had returned from Kurukshetra, the only one who hadn’t witnessed his ruination and tried to stop it in any manner.

Maybe she knew he was a lost cause. Or maybe losing so many of her children had made her impervious to the loss of another. 

All he knew was that much like him, she had sheltered herself away from the world that had snatched away everything from her and Duryodhana had no courage to face his mother.

In Fact, the last time he had seen her was when she had done something that he couldn’t have possibly ever dreamt of. In a voice as silent as the battlefield at night after a raging war, she had ordered the guards to throw out her brother, his uncle Shakuni, out of Hastinapura. His mother’s face was frighteningly blank when she said this and even before her words had fallen upon them she had turned and left the courtroom. Stunned into silence by Gandhari’s inconceivable speech, he had watched mutely as the guards got ready to do as told but they needn’t have bothered because Shakuni left by himself, without looking at any of them, just like his mother. And though Duryodhana had known his uncle all his life, he would never be able to make out the expression on his face when Gandhari decreed his return. 

“Prince, come on now, let us go home. You must have dinner with me.” Ashwatthama stood up and dusted at his dhoti before offering him his hand. 

“Ashwatthama, why did  _ he _ come with you? Dushasan told me about it.”

Ashwatthama’s face was vacant. “Vasusena visited me in Panchala after which he accompanied me to Hastinapur along with Vasudev Krishna.”

“He betrayed us. Have you forgiven him?” Duryodhana was surprised at how steady his voice was, how he surprisingly managed to control his emotions when Ashwatthama had so nonchalantly dropped the name of the man who had deserted him.

“It is not for me to forgive him. It’s up to you. We were all fighting on behalf of Hastinapura and since you were the crown prince, the decision to forgive him lies with you.”

“Are you not upset with his betrayal?”

“His actions on the battlefield have no consequence on our friendship.”

Duryodhana stood up hastily, stupefied at Ashwatthama’s reasoning. “How could they not? You fought alongside him and he chose to bestow reprieve to the enemy. As his comrade-in-arms, how can his treachery be acceptable to you?”

“I am sure he had his reasons.”

“Having read and probably memorized Nyaya Shastra, you know what retribution awaits men who commit treason.”

“My friendship is not bound by the laws of any shastra. And as I said, his treachery was directed at you. You alone can decide on the apt punishment.”

“Is that so? Suppose I condemn him to a lifetime of rotting in prison. Or if I were to take up your uncle’s suggestion and have him thrown to the lions. Would that be ok with you?”

Ashwatthama flinched and stared gravely at him. “Of course not. But I have full faith that you won’t do anything that you would regret later.”

Duryodhana threw his arms in the air.“Why would I regret punishing the man who betrayed me? You, my father, the chief minister, are all acting as if nothing happened! As if I am supposed to forget that Karna, who I trusted more than anyone else in the world, did not choose to abandon us all on the battlefield.”

“Did you ever ask him why?”

“No!” Duryodhyana turned away in anger. “I will not lower myself to do such a thing. I do not know why he did what he did and I do not care to know.”

Ashwatthama scoffed at him. “Try this on Dushasan. You don’t fool me, Prince.”

“And your insouciant facade isn’t fooling me either. There’s something you are not telling me.”

Ashwatthama fell silent, and Duryodhana guessed he had hit the bull’s eye with his aimless guess. Realization flooded through him and he grabbed his friend’s wrist.

“Do you….do you..know why?”

Duryodhana had tried to come across as equanimous but he knew his voice had betrayed him. 

“I thought you didn’t care?” Ashwatthama challenged.

“I don’t. And it’s not that complicated. I know why.”

“You do?......why?”

Ashwatthama’s question rang in his ear like the temple bells during Bhanumathi’s morning puja, the only difference being that the temple bells brought him peace while Ashwatthama’s question simply increased his agony. 

“Because….I guess I……..I pushed him too far.”

For someone who had broken the rules of the caste system and taken immense pleasure in doing so, Karna was surprisingly a man of principles. His rigid adherence to the Dharma prescribed in the same scriptures that also advocated for the unmatched ingenuity of the caste system baffled Duryodhana and he constantly questioned his friend about it. Karna would simply shake his head and remark that the brahmins had soiled the requisite arrangement into a system that benefitted a selected few. Duryodhana had argued, stating that Karna was simply molding the scriptures to justify his sin of picking up the bow when his caste did not permit him to do so. He had expected Karna to burst into a fit of anger and launch into a harsh and tiring rebuttal, meshed with umbrage at Duryodhana’s circumspection when he himself had aided his impossible ambitions by declaring him the King of Anga. But Karna hadn’t done that. He had simply laughed and shrugged, mumbling that maybe he was right. 

Karna had not approved of Shakuni’s plan to burn the Pandavas in the house of lac but ultimately demurred after Duryodhana’s persistent requests, although by then it had been too late.

When Duryodhana had been humiliated in Indraprastha, debased by Draupadi’s cruel taunt and her biting laughter, Karna had sworn vengeance, promising to reduce the Pandavas to dust. But Shakuni and his piercing intellect had come up with a plan so ingenious that Duryodhana had tossed the prospect of war for an even bigger disgrace, one that the Pandavas would never forget. Karna protested, harped about honor and duty and whatnot, but Duryodhana would not relent. And so Karna had joined him in the dyut sabha albeit reluctantly. 

But as the game progressed and Yudhisthira began to lose his brothers one by one while in the grip of the most foolish and obstinate refusal to accept his defeat, Karna had laughed alongside him at the sorry state of the rest of the Pandavas. And then he had shocked the entire courtroom, including Duryodhana, when in a voice dripping with contempt and rancor, he had accused Draupadi who only hours ago had been the Empress of Bharatvarsh, of promiscuity, and reduced her to the equivalent of a prostitute. Even Duryodhana had been momentarily taken back by his seething spite but Shakuni had smiled triumphantly and pulled Duryodhana back to reality. Duryodhana knew that ultimately Karna had come to bitterly regret his words, especially after his mother had refused to see him for well over a year due to his deplorable conduct at the dyut sabha. 

This was a man who had mutilated himself in a bid to remove his armor and be forever famed as the man who gave charity to a God.

This was a man who not only had a profound knowledge of the sacred texts but also acted in accordance with dharma his entire life.

This man had known of the darkness in Duryodhana’s heart and yet had chosen to stay by him, disregarding his principles and morals that pleaded with him to leave Duryodhana’s side before it was too late.

Was Abhimanyu’s slaughter the final straw? Had Karna finally come to accept and acknowledge like the rest of the world that Duryodhana was the epitome of all evil and that apparently every bad thing that happened, happened because of him and him alone? Had Duryodhana’s orders to finish off Arjuna’s son in a manner that mimicked Bhima’s massacre of his brothers convinced him of that notion, taking it from a prejudiced philippic to an irrefutable fact.

Krishna had accompanied Karna to Hastinapur and was actively supporting him amongst a herd of detractors. He remembered how Karna had begged him to embrace the offer of reconciliation that Krishna had brought with him. Had something happened then, between his friend and foe that he was unaware of?

“Duryodhana?”

Ashwatthama’s voice interrupted his chaotic thoughts, and he turned to look at his friend, who was staring at him with flickering hope. 

“Talk to him. If you would just-”

“No! I will not do something so dishonourable and pathetic!” Like hell, he would approach that traitor.

“He’s your friend!”

“He means nothing to me, Ashwatthama.” Duryodhana snarled. “Nothing.”

Ashwatthama opened his mouth to protest, but Kripi cut in, calling them for dinner. He liked Kripi’s cooking, but this time Duryodhana had barely any idea about what she had served him. They ate in silence, though he was well aware of Ashwatthama’s eyes on him. He couldn’t believe that Ashwatthama would suggest something so preposterous. It annoyed him that he alone seemed to be angry at Karna and everyone else was perfectly fine with his presence after he had forsaken them all.

He exhaled deeply, wondering whether the impending war was the cause of their missing outrage. He felt ashamed to acknowledge that he had no idea of the political and socio-economic situation in the country and how narrow their chances of victory were against Magadha and its allies. From whatever Dushasan had told him, the situation was certainly grim.

Yes, he had still not gotten over his grief at losing his brothers and probably never would, but he had a duty towards Hastinapura and more importantly towards his father, the reigning king. His features twisted in mortification when he looked at his weak hands and debilitated body and how if they were to go into battle tomorrow, he was sure to be the first casualty. No, he was the student of Drona, he had studied mace fighting from Balarama, he was a warrior, a Kshatriya, a prince. He couldn’t lower himself like that.

Duryodhana sighed.

He knew what he needed to do. 


End file.
